/ 

/ 


No.  CCOCXXII, 

FRENCH'S   STANDARD    DRAMA 

Ete  acting  iBtiition. 


A  CELEBRATED  CASE 

A  DRAMA 

»  PB0!>)6UIS  AM)  lOUK  ACfiK 
BfT 

D'ENNEEY  &  OOBMOW 

The  Dnion  Square  Theatre  Version 


ADAPTED  BT 

A.  Pv.  CAZARAUN 
PRICE.  35  CENTS 


New  York 
SAMUEL  FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

2S  WEST  45TH  STREET 


LONDOK 

SAMUEL  FRENCH.  Lm 

26  Soxn'HAMPToN  Strebt 

STRAND 


A  CELEBRATED  CASE. 


^  Urama 


IN    PROLOGUE   AND   FOUR  AClS. 


MM.   D'EE"l!^ERY  Al^^D    CORMOIT. 


New  York 
SAMUEL  FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

25  WEST  45TH  STREET 


London 

SAMUEL  FRENCH,  Lm 

26  Southampton  Street 

STRAND 


A   CELEBRATED    CASE. 

CHARACTERS  IN  THE   PROLOGUE. 
Uniou  Square  Theatre. 

Jean  Renaud,   a  Soldier  in  the  Prench  Army, 

Mr.  CHAKLES  COGHLAN 
Count  d'Aubeterre,  cvminanding  King's  Oirn  Regiment,  ■• 

Mr.  JOHiN   PAKSELLE 

Lazare,  a  Camp  Follower Mr.  FRANK  HARDENBURG 

Denis  O'Rourke,  an  Irish  Sergea7it  in  the  King's  tervice, 

Mr.  J.  H.  STODDART 

The  Corporal Mr.  W.  H.  WILDER 

The  Seneschal  of  the  Village  op  Montagne.  Mr.  H.  F.  DALY 

Capi  ain  in  the  King's  Own   Mr.  GOLDTHWAIT 

Madeline  Renaud,  Jean's  Wife Miss  AGNES  BOOTH 

Adrienne  Renaud  (aged  five),   Jean's  Daughter, 

Miss  EVA  FRENCH 

Martha Miss  LULU  JORDAN 

Julie Miss  MARGARET  CONE 

Annette Miss  HATTIE  THORPE 

Soldiers,  Villagers,  etc. 

Twelve  years  are  supposed  to  elapse  between  the  incidents  of  the 
Prologue  and  those  of  the  First  Act. 

CHARACTERS  IN  THE  PLAY. 

Jean  Renaud,  condemned  to  the  Galleys  for  life, 

Mr.  CHARLES  COGHLAN 
Count  de  Mornay,    returned  from  Exile, 

Mr.  FRANK  HARDENBURG 
Duke   d'Aubeterre,   Governor  of  Provence, 

M,i.  JOHN  PARSELLE 
Viscount  Raoul  de  Langey,  betrotJied  to  Adrienne, 

Mu.  NELSON  DECKER 
Denis  O'Rourke,  in  the  Service  of  Duke  d' Aufieterre, 

Mr.  J.  II.  STODDART 

The  Sergeant  of  the  Guard Mr.  II.  \V.  MON  I GOMERY 

JosKPir,  //  Sei-xant Mit.  H.  F.  DALY 

Aduiknne,  Duke  d'Aubeterre's  adopted  Dauf/hter, 

MiSb  SAliAII  JEWETT 

Valkntine  de  Mornay Miss  LINDA  DIETZ 

Ddcuksse  d'Aubeterre Mrs.  C  \V.  PoOLE 

Chanoinessk  ok  tuk  College d'Hyeueo.  .Miss  ID.\  VER.noN 

Julie,  Adrienne' s  Maid 

Soldikrs.  Convicts,  ktc. 


F9 


COSTUMES 


OF 


CELEBRATED  CASE. 


Count  d'Aubeterre — Full  regimentals  of  the  "King's  Own." 
Jiick-boots  and  spurs  ;  white  breeches  ;  white  military  vest,  gold 
facings  ;  blue  cloth  coat,  gold  facings  ;  deep  cuffs,  trimmed  with 
gold  military  braid  ;  lace  bow  and  fall  ;  lace  cuffs  ;  white  gloves  ; 
powdered  bayr-wig,  ribbon  from  bag  to  fall  over  bosom  ;  three- 
cornered  black  hat,  trimmed  with  gold  lace  ;  sword  and  white 
belt. 

Second  Dress — Rich  square-cut  dark  velvet  suit  ;  low  square- 
toed  shoes,  red  heels,  buckles,  and  court  sword, 

Jean  Renaud — Soldier's  uniform  <jf  the  "  King's  Own."  Blue 
coat,  yellow  facings  on  front,  and  deep  cuffs  ;  white  breeches,  and 
white  long  gaiters  buttoned  upon  sides  full  length  ;  cross  and 
Wrtist  belts  ;  stock  and  bag- wig  ;  three-cornerod  hat ;  musket. 

Second  Dress — Convict's  dress  of  chocolate-colored  merino,  viz.: 
Loose  knee-breeches  ;  loose  jacket,  short  full  sleeves,  with  grey- 
colored  undershirt,  open  bosom  ;  common  low  shoes ;  canvas- 
sandiilled  legs;  loose  common  cap  same  as  dress;  ball  and  chain 
fistened  to  ankles  on  le^gs;  matted  hair  and  unshaven  beard. 

Lazare — Slouched  grey  hat  ;  long-haired  rough  wig  ;  striped 
colored  shirt,  with  broad  turned-down  collar;  loose  brown  coat; 
stockings  pulled  up  above  knee  and  turned  down  at  top  ;  loose 
breeches  tucked  inside  of  stockings  ;  low  shoes,  buff. 

Second  Dress — Richly-trimmed  dark  velvet  suit  ;  powdered  wig, 
Bword,  etc. 


Denis  O'Rotjkke  —  Regimental  dress  of  the  "King's  Own," 
sergeant's  stripes  on  lefc  arm. 

Second  Dress — Dark  square-cut  livery.  Long  vest  ;  low  slioes 
and  buckles  ;  powdered  bag-wig  ;  white  stockings  ;  white  bow 
and  fall ;  puffed  cuffs  ;  long  cane  as  staff  of  cfBce. 

Corporal — Regimental  dress,  two  stripes  on  left  arm. 

Seneschal — Dark  green  shad-bellied  suit  ;   brown  wig. 

Captain — Regimentals  of  "  King's  Own." 

Madeline — Short  striped  skirt ;  striped  hose  ;  slippers  ;  black 
velvet  low  bodice  with  shoulder-straps,  over  white  high-necked 
muslin  waist ;  long  full  sleeves,  tight  at  wrist ;  fancy  apron  ;  hair 
in  two  long  plaits  at  back,  with  bows  on  end,  and  white  Nor- 
mandy  cap  with  ribbon  bow. 

Child  \ 

Martha      (       Similar  in  style  to  Madeline 

Julie  ( 

Annette     / 

Villagers — Loose  colored  trunks  ;  vests ;  plain  trimmed  me- 
rino jackets  ;  colored  hose  ;  low  shoes  ;  longish  hair,  tied  behind  ; 
three-cornered  or  br.iad-brimmed  hats. 


A  CELEBRATED  CASE. 


PROLOGUE. 
Part  1. 


Cottage  of  John  Renaud  in  the  villaye  of  Montagne.  Door, 
R.  c.  On  the  l.  is  a  smaller  door  which  leads  to  the  bed- 
room q/"  John  and  his  wife.  On  the  c.  is  a.  window.  On 
R.  below  door,  a  vast  chimney  like  that  in  '■'■Pierre  Michel.'''' 
On  L.  above  the  door  is  a  dresser  toith  shelves  in  its  upptr 
half  and  drawers  in  its  lower  half  Table,  r.  c.  Time : 
Night.  Small  corner  cupboard  in  angle,  l.  2  e.  At  rise 
of  curtain,  Madeline,  Martha,  Annette,  and  Louiss, 
together  toith  a  female  neighbor,  are  seated  sewing  round 
the  table,  on  which  a  lamp  is  burning.  The  Women  are 
making  lace — Brussels  lace.  Madeline  is  seated  to  the 
left  with  frame  near  dresser,  on  which  is  another  lamp. 

Martha  (Indicating  Madeline  with  a  gesture  of  the  head 
and  speaking  in  half -voice)  Poor  woman  !  It  is  not  on  the 
lace  her  mind  is. 

Louise  Of  course  it  isn't;  and  her  good  man  may  be  fac- 
ing the  bullets  this  night. 

Martha  Oh,  the  cruel,  cruel  wars !     When — 

Madeline  (Quickly  raising  her  head  as  if  to  listen)  Hush! 
Hark ! 

All  (Startled)  W hut  is  it? 

Madeline  (Goes  to  window  c,  pushes  it  partly  open  ;  all 
listen)  It's  cavalry — I  hear  the  ring  of  the  hoofs. 

Martha  Some  other  detachment — on  to  Fontenoy. 

Louise  (Fervently)  Have  mercy  on  us,  O  Heaven  !  for 
there  the  great  fight  is  to  be. 

Madeline  (Coming  forward,  l.  c.)  Alas! — (Looking round 
her) — But  where  is  my  child  ?  (Sits  l.  h. 


1  A   CELEBRATED   CASE. 

Louise  With  the  little  ones  next  door.  Poor  little  things  ! 
The  war,  thank  Heaven  !  does  not  trouble  them. 

Madeline  [Now  at  work)  Their  young  hearts  could  not 
bear  the  suspense,  the  agony.  It  is  now  five  weeks  since 
i?e  heard  from  the  army,  isn't  it?  I  think  the  suspense 
will  kill  me. 

Martha  [Rising,  going  to  her)  Come,  come,  courage  1  You 
knew  John  was  likely  to  be  recalled  to  the  army — an  old 
soldier  like  him. 

Madeline  Not  so  very  old  either.  But  John  was  not  the 
man  to  wait  for  a  second  call  v?hen  the  enemy  menaced  our 
homes. 

Martha  He  is  a  good,  brave,  noble  man — in  spite  of  his 
hot  temper  and  his  jealousy.  And  after  all,  his  fits  of 
anger  only  sprang  from  his  love  for  his  young  wife. 

Madeline  Every  house  has  its  troubles.  How  quickly  I 
forgot  his  jealous  fits  when  I  saw  him  march  away,  knap- 
sack on  back  and  musket  on  shoulder,  and  heard  my  little 
girl  ask,  "  Won't  papa  come  back  soon  ?" 

Martha  The  Seneschal  thinks  the  fighting  will  be  over  by 
harvest-tinio. 

Louise  And  John  will  be  mustered  out  with  the  rest. 

Madeline  My  foster-sister,  the  Countess  D'Aubeterre,  is 
the  wife  of  his  Colotiel,  and  I  know  she  will  obtain  his  re- 
lease for  me  after  the  campaign  is  over.  You  know  it  was 
she  gave  me  to  John,  gave  me  my  little  dowry;  and  as  we 
left  the  church,  took  ufi"  lior  own  necklace  and  placed  it  on 
my  neck  with  her  own  hands. 

Martha  (  With  awe)  The  Queen  of  France  has  not  a  more 
splendid  necklace  than  that.  [Crossing  to  r.  c, 

Louise  [Eagerly)  Oh,  let  me  see  it — I  never  saw  it — oh 
do! 

All  [Coming  forward  to  c.)  Oh  yes,  yes.   Let  us  see  it. 

(Madeline  rises,  goes  to  dresser,  opens  top  drawer^  takes  out  a 
good -sized  casket,  opens  it  and  takes  a  necklace  out  of  it, 
which  the  Women  gape  at  in  wonder  and  admiration. ) 

Martha  Isn't  it  splendid  ! 

Louise  It  must  be  worth  a  fortune. 

Madeline  {^Proudly  enjoying  their  admirat(on)\o\x  see  tiie 


A   CELEBRATED   CASE.  5 

medallion.  Well,  I  press  on  this  diamond  in  tlie  middle, 
and  it  opens,  and  there,  you  see,  are  the  arms  and  initials  of 
the  Countess — my  foster-sister. 

Martha  How  much  could  you  get  for  it,  do  you  think  ? 

Madeline  I'll  never  know,  for  Til  never  ptirt  with  it  while 
I  live. 

{Puts  it  back  into  casket ;  puts  casket  in  drawer.     The  others 
return    to   their  seats. 

Adrienne  rushes  in,  r.  3  e. 

Adrienne  Mamma!  mamma!  soldiers!  soldiers!  More 
soldiers  with  big  wagons.  They're  stopping  on  the  Square. 
Is  papa  with  the?n  ? 

Madeline  {To  Martha)  I  knew  I  heard  troops 

Adrienne  Oh,  papa  !   papa  ! 

Louise  Let's  go  and  see. 

Madeline  Yes,  yes.      Come,  come  ; 

{All    the  Women  rise  to  go  out,  r.   3   e.      Enter  Sergeant 
O'RouRKE,  door  R.  3  e. 
0'' Rourke  {Coming  doivn  c.)  Don't  be  afther  disthurblng 
yirsilves,  darlints. 

Madeline  {Delightedly)  O'Rourke,  the  Colonel's  orderly. 
Our  old  neighbor ! 

0^ Rourke  Sargint  O'Rourke  now,  av  it's  all  the  same  to 
you,  Mrs.  Raiiiaud. 

Madeline  Have  you  seen  John  ? 

Louise  Have  you  seen  James  ? 

Martha  Have  you  seen  Peter  ? 

Annette  Have  you  seen  Paul  ? 

First  Woman  Have  you  seen  Luke  ? 

0'' Rourke  I  bring  riports  ov  the  bearers  of  those  five 
apostolic  names — good  riports — foine  news. 

{Takes  his  gvM,  places  it  up  stage. 

Madeline  Heaven  be  praised  ! 

Louise  And  Cousin  James  ? — he  was  in  your  regiment. 

0' Rourke  Little  Jimmy  is  in  the  ambulance  with  a  beau- 
tiful ball  in  his  shoulder — it's  not  of  the  slightest  conse- 
quence. 

Louise    Poor  James  ! 


6  A   CELEBRATED   CASE. 

Martha  And  Peter — handsome  Peter? 

0''Rourke  Handsome  Peter,  is  it  ?  Sure  he  undertoolc  to 
shtop  the  sabre  of  one  of  Brunswick's  blackguards  with  his 
nose,  and  he  isn't  as  handsome  now  as  he  was.  But  don't 
be  afeard,  acushla,  it's  not  ov  the  sHghtest  consequence, 

Annette  And  Paul  —how  is  Paul,  my  Paul  ?  Bless  his 
two  eyes ! 

O^Rourke  You  can't  bless  his  two  eyes  any  more,  me  pet. 
A  grape-shot's  took  the  lift  one.  But  he  can  see  very  well 
with  the  other.  So  don't  cry,  alannah,  It's  not  ov  the  slight- 
est consequence. 

Louise  This  is  what  you  call  fine  news. 

Madeline  ( Coming  down  l.  c.)  But  John,  my  John  ! 

0''Rour]ce  Fresh  as  a  daisy  with  the  June  dew  upon  it, 
darlint.  Upon  me  sowl,  I  believe  the  balls  is  afeard  ov  the 
man  ;  because  he  isn't  afeard  ov  them. 

Madeline  [Fervently)  Thank  Heaven !  But  how  come 
you— 

O^Jioiirke  Here  in  the  middle  ov  the  night,  is  it  ? 
Will,  I'm  convoying  an  ammunition  train,  and  we  had  to  pass 
this  way  because  the  dirty  Inglish  hold  ivry  other  way. 

Madeline  I'm  so  glad. 

O'Rourke  Yis.  We  halted  in  the  Square,  so  I  came  to 
bring  you  all  the  news,  while  the  wimin  is  givin'  the  boys  a 
dhrop  o'  something. 

Louise  Well,  Mr.  O'Rourke — 

O'Rourke  {Insinuating b/.)  Sargint  O'Rourke,  av  you 
plaze,  ma'am. 

Louise  Well,  Sergeant  O'Rourke,  we'll  go  and  do  like- 
wise. 

O'Rourke  Av  you  plaze.  It's  like  ould  Ireland  to  see 
the  wimin  waitin'  on  the  boys  afther  a  shindig.  [Opens  r. 
a.  for  the  ivomen.)  And  never  yeez  mind  a  fellow's  losing 
an  eye  or  a  nose,  the  loss  ov  thim  mimbers  is  ov  not  the 
sligktest  consequence — the  man  is  just  as  good,  though  not 
so  complayte.  (Martha  takes  Child. 

{The  Women  all  hut  Madeline  having  passed  out,  she  goes  to 
corner  cupboard,  l.  h. 

Madeline  You  must  rest  a  while. 


A    CELEBRATED    CASE,  7 

CRoxirke  Indeed  an'  I  will,  for  it's  a  good  way  j«t  to 
the  lines. 

Madeline  {Going  to  a  sideboard  and  taking  out  bottle  and 
ylass.)     And  you  will  take  a  glass  of  John's  wine  ? 

(^Putting  wine  and  glass  on  table  and  getting  r.  of  fable. 

O^Hourke  Ay,  and  dhrink  it  to  his  health. 

{^Drinks  and  sits  down,  r.  c. 

Madeline  And  now  tell  me  about  John. 

O^Rourke  You  know  I  left  the  Irish  Brigade  becaus* 
of  a  row  with  one  of  the  O'Burkes,  and  joined  John's  regi- 
ment because  he  was  an  ould  neighbor  of  mine.  But  it's 
the  bad  luck  was  in  it,  for  they  put  me  in  a  different  com- 
pany, and  we  were  detailed  to  convoy  this  ammunition.  I 
saw  him  when  I  started,  and  he  was  as  blooinin'  as  a  sham- 
rock in  spring.  lie  towld  me  to  see  you  and  give  his 
daughter  a  couple  of  kisses  for  him  ;  and  to  be  sure  to  tell 
you  he  was  sorry  and  ashamed  of  his  past  jealousy  and  hot 
temper ;  and  if  he  comes  back  you'll  have  no  more  rows. 

Enter  Adriexne,  r.  d.     Runs  over  to  l.  h. 

Come  here,  little  one.  Come  here  and  let  me  give  you 
what  papy  sent  you. 

{^Takes  up  Child,  kisses  her  on  each  cheek,  and  pats  her  head. 

Adrienne  An-d  didn't  he  send  any  kisses  to  mamma  ? 

O^Rourke  Shure  it's  myself  wishes  he  had  ;  but  he'll 
bring  them  himself. 

Madeline  But  how  soon  ? 

0^ Rourke  Every  minute  is  a  month  to  yer  heart,  dar- 
lint,  I  know.  But  it  will  be  soon.  To-morrow's  fighten 
will  fix  it. 

Madeline  To-morrow  ? 

O'Rourke  Ye'U  hear  the  music  bright  an'  early.  The 
King  '11  be  there,  and  if  the  Irish  and  the  Frinch  can't  bate 
the  English,  the  divil  must  be  takin'  splendid  care  of  his 
own.  {Drum, 

Enter  Cokporal,  r.  3  e. 

Corporal  Horses  fed  ;  all  ready,  Sergeant. 


8  A   CELEBRATED    CASE. 

O^Rourke  (Bisvir/,  tcikinr/  up  knapsack.)  So  am  I,  Cor- 
poral. \^Exit  Corporal,  r.  3  e. 

The  victory  of  to-morrow  will  end  the  war  {takincj  the 
child  up),  and  bring-  papa  back.     Who  will  be  glad? 

Adrienne  I  Avili — and  mamma.  (Kisses  U'Rourke.) 
That  for  papa,  and  that,  and  that. 

(O'Rourke,  much  moved,  hands  the  Child  to  its  mother^ s  arms, 
and  goes  up  to  get  gun.       Madeline  and  Child  cross  to 

L.   H. 

Adrienne  Sergeant !  (He  tarns  back.)  And  that  (throw- 
ing her  arms  round  his  neck)  for  you. 

0''Rourke  Tiie  blessed  fairy  !  What's  the  matter  wid  me  ? 
I  think  it's  my  collar  is  tight —  This  will  niver  do.  (Takes 
gun.      Goes  to  door,  r.  3  e.)     Heaven  bless  ye  both  ! 

\^Exit,  R.  3  E.,  quickly, 

(They  follow  to  door,  wave   their  hands  after  him. 

Adrienne  (Looking  out.)  All  the  lights  are  out.  Every 
body  has  gone  to  bed.  How  dark  and  still  it  is  !  Oh  come 
in,  mamma,  come  in  and  shut  the  doors.  I  am  afraid  at 
night. 

Madeline  (Coming  in  and  closing  door.)  Afraid,  with 
me? 

Adrienne  I  know ;  but  it  isn't  as  if  papa  was  home. 

Madeline  You're  not  afraid  then. 

Adrienne  Only  when  I'm  in  the  other  room  and  I  hear 
him  quarrelling  with  you  sometimes. 

Madeline  Never  fear,  dear.  He  won't  quarrel  with  me 
any  more. 

Knock  heard  at  v>.  r. 

Adrienne  (Stops,  startled.)     There's  a  knock,  mamma  ! 

Madeline  Probably  Martha,  who  has  forgotten  her  knit- 
ting. (Goes  toward  d.  r. 

Adrienne  (Holding  on  to  her  dress.)  Oh,  mamma,  take 
care  ! 

Madeline  Now  don't  be  frightened.  (Knock  repeated  a 
little  harder.)     Who's  there ? 


A    CELEBRATED    CASE.  f 

Voice  (Outside  D.  R.)  It's  me,  Madeline,  open  quick! 
quick ! 

Madeline    John  Renaud  ! 

i^Opens  R.  D.  quickly.     John  rushes  in, 

Madeline  You  ! 

Adrienne  Papa  ! 

John  Hush  !  [Shuts  the  door, 

Madeline  ( Throwing  herself  on  his  neck?)  Is  it  possible  ! 

John  [Putting  gun  against  fireplace?)  Not  so  loud — 
not  so  loud. 

{John  takes  up  Adrienne  and  covers  her  with  kisses. 

Adrienne  Oil,  if  you  knew  how  glad  I  am ! 

John  It  is  easy  to  see.  But  don't  say  it  so  loud,  dar- 
ling ! 

Adrienne  Why,  papa  ? 

John  [Putting  Child  down.)  Becaiise  nobody  must  know 
l^apa  came  here  to  kiss  his  little  girl  to-night. 
[Goes  to  D.  R.,  opens  it  a  very  little  and  p)^srs  out.     Made- 
line gets  to  R.  H. 

Madeline  But  Avon't  you  tell  me — 

John  [Pointing  to  Child.)  Yes — by  and  by.  But  first 
let  me  look  at  vou  [Draws  them  both  towards  him.)  Let 
me  feel  I  am  awake,  that  it  is  indeed  you  I  press  to 
my  heart,  after  a  separation  of  two  such  months. 

"Adrienne  You  wont  go  away  again,  will  you,  papa  ? 

John  Very  soon  I  will  be  able  to  remain  with  you  for- 
ever. But  it  is  getting  late.  Your  little  eyes  need 
sleep.  [Aside  to  Madeline  :)  Get  her  away. 

Madeline  Yes.  Now  be  a  good  girl.  Say  good-night 
to  papa,  and  don't  forget  to  say  your  prayers  ! 

[Putting  child  over  to  John. 

Adrienne  [Holding  her  forehead  up  to  her  father.)  Good- 
night, papa! 

John  Good-night,  darling ! 

Adrienne  I'm  not  a  bit  afraid  now.  Good-night, 
Ijapa ! 

[Goes  iyito  room,  l.  d.,  led  by  her  mother,  ivho  closes  the  door 
after  her.     Comes  back  and  kneels  by  John.) 

Madeline  Speak,  John.  Tell  me.  I  know  something 
very  serious  could  alone  bring  you  here,  at  such  a  time, 
at  this  hour. 


H>  A   CELEBRATED   CASE. 

John.  You're  right.  Listen.  (Takes  her  hand.)  We 
have  had  some  sharp  trials  together,  wife,  but  it's  all  over. 
We  are  now  rich. 

Madeline.     Rich  !     How  ? 

John.  We  were  this  morning  sent  out  to  skirmish  on  the 
frontier.  We  had  a  sharp  cncouuter  with  some  Dutch  rifle- 
men ;  but  we  were  in  sufficient  force  and  repulsed  them. 
Night  came  on,  and  we  were  recalled.  As  I  followed  our 
column,  not  yet  in  complete  marching  order,  I  heard  some 
cries  for  aid.  Thinking  they  might  be  from  some  wounded 
comrade,  I  went  in  the  direction  of  the  sound,  and  soon  saw 
one  man  with  his  knee  on  another's  body.  I  rushed  for- 
ward, and  the  scoundrel  fled  into  the  night ;  and  1  found 
only  a  poor  traveller,  who,  trying  to  make  his  way  across  the 
frontier,  had  been  caught  in  the  net  of  the  moving  armies, 
and  who  had  received  a  fearful  grape-shot  wound  in  the 
head.  I  raised  him  up,  poured  some  water  from  my  canteen 
down  his  throat,  and  he  revived  a  little.  He  pointed  on  the 
ground  beside  him,  where  I  beheld  some  jewels  that  had  evi- 
dently fallen  from  his  belt,  torn  in  the  struggle  with  the  ruf- 
fian wnr  had  fled.  "Take  these,"  he  said  ;  "  and  all  in  my  belt. 
They  are  family  jewels  and  deeds  to  family  property  ;  I  con- 
fide them  to  your  honor.  I  am  the  Count  de  Mornay,  the 
youngest  of  that  persecuted  and  proscribed  family.  I  was 
striving  to  cross  the  lines  into  Flanders,  hoping  thence  to 
reach  England,  where  my  father  awaits  me."  He  then  im- 
plored me  to  convey  to  his  father  the  news  of  his  death,  and 
the  papers  and  jewels  he  had  confided  to  me.  I  swore  to  him  I 
would  do  so.  He  then  painfully  took  from  his  pocket  a  purse. 
"This,"  he  said,  "I  give  you  freely.  It  contains,  in  gold  and 
bills,  three  hundred  louis.  Accept  it  in  memory  ofthe  man  you 
have  striven  to  succor."  At  this  moment  I  could  hear  the  tramp 
of  infantry.  "It  is  the  English,"  he  said  ;  "  go  save  yourself 
tr  you'll  be  taken  prisoner — go  !  and  don't  forget  your 
oath  and  my  trust."  He  fell  back,  I  think,  dead.  The 
tramp  came  nearer  and  nearer.  I  fled  towards  our  retreat- 
ing column.  Suddenly  I  thought  of  to-morrow's  great 
battle ;  of  the  weight  of  this  great  trust ;  of  you  and  tlie 
little  one.  Knowing  the  country,  I  knew  I  was  but  h.nlf  an 
hour's  run    from   here.     I  determined  to  come,  leave   these 


A    CELEBRATED    CASE.  11 

things  -with  you,  the  money  lie  gave  me  to  you,  in  case 
aught  should  happen  to  me  at  Fontenoy  to-morrow.  In  a 
skirmish  retreat  I  would  not  be  missed  for  a  couple  of  hours, 
and  could  easily  be  present  at  roll-call.  I  did  not  hesitate  a 
minute,  and  here  I  am,  [Risinrf.)  So,  wife,  put  the  jewels 
and  these  papers  (opening  knapsack  on  table)  with  the  neck- 
lace giren  you  by  the  Countess  d'Aubeterre  ;  and  keep  them 
safely.  If — if — to — to-morrow  I  fall  on  the  field,  forward 
them  to  the  father  of  the  poor  dead  Count;  and  in  his  gift 
of  three  hundred  louis  you  will  have  enough  to  keep  yourself 
and  our  child  from  want. 

Madeline  But  you  will  return,  John  ;  you  will — you  must ! 

John  That  must  be  as  Heaven  wills.  Put  these  away,  and 
keep  them  safe, 

Madeline  {^Crossing  to  dresser  and  arranging  them  in 
casket.)  What  magnificent  jewels,  necklaces  of  pearls, 
bracelets  !  {^Looking  at  the  purse.)  And  these  three  hundred 
louis  are  oivrs  ? 

Joh7i  Honestly  ours,  wife. 

Madeline  Our  daughter's  dowry  ! 

\ Locks  the  casket  in  the  drawer  of  the  dresser  whence  she  took  it 
at  commencement  of  act,  and  p)uts  the  key  of  the  draioer 
in  her  pocket — apron  pocket. 

John  And  now,  darling,  I  haven't  a  minute  to  lose.  I 
can't  have  been  missed,  or  they  will  suppose  I  missed  my 
way.  I  have  a  good  pair  of  legs;  and  on  the  battle  morn- 
ing John  Renaud  will  not  be  absent  from  roll-call,  never 
fear. 

Madeline  What  a  night — and  for  me  what  an  anxious 
morrow,  John  ! 

John  {^Taking  her  in  his  arms.)  Bear  it  like  a  soldier's 
wife.  And  now  one  word,  darling.  My  foolish  anger  and 
intemperate  jealousies,  my  violent  temper  in  the  past — 

Madeline  {Kissing  him.)  Forgotten,  John,  my  love — 
my  huiband  ! 

John  You  forgive  them  all  ? 

Madeline  Forgive  them  ?  Why,  John,  I  love  you  more 
than  T  love  my  life  !  [Cries  and  kisses  him. 

JcJm  Dou't  unman  me,  dear.  There  !  there  !  And  now 
f  must  ^Oo 


12  A   CELEBRATED    CASE. 

Madeline  Without  kissing  your  child  ? 

John  She  sleeps,  no  doubt.     Let  me  but  look  at  her. 

{^Goes  to   L.  D.,  opens   it,  looks  in,  Madeline  follorving  him. 
They  look  i)i,  then  at    each  other. 

Madeline  The    poor    darling !     She    has  not    even    un- 
dressed, but  fell  asleep  saying  her  prayers. 
John  Don't  forget  me  in  your  own. 
Madeline     Never,  John — never  ! 

(John  kisses  his  hand  to  the  sleeping  child,  softly  recloses 
the  door,  takes  up  his  musket.  Madeline,  going  to  r.  d., 
opening  it  and  peering  out,  nods  her  head. 

John  Aovf  I  must  be  gone. 
Madeline  Nothing — no  one  ! 

(John  embraces  her  and  exits  r.  d.  She  follows  him  out 
whispering.  They  disappear  a  moment.  Closing  door  after 
them. 

[Pause.     Empty  stage. 

(Lazare  is  seen  at  window,  c.  Opens,  enters,  goes  straight  to 
dresser;    tries  drawer  in  which  Madeline  ^^accrf  casket. 

Lazare  Locked  !  She  did  take  the  key  !  If  I  smash  it 
he  may  hear  the  noise.  So  much  the  worse  for  her.  {On 
tiptoe  goes  to  wall  beside  the  door.)     She  is    coming. 

[Goes  quickly  behind  door,  r. 

(Madeline  enters,  halts,  holding  door  open,  looking  out  as  if 
unable  to  give  up  the  hope  of  catching  another  glimpse  of 
John.  Sighs,  tmnis.  As  she  turns,  Lazare  clap)s  the  door 
to  and  steps  in  front  of  it. 

Madeline   [Starting  hack  to  l.  ii.)     Ah  ! 

Lazare  (r.,  threateningly.)  Silence  ! 

Madeline    (l.)      Who  are  you  ?     What  do  you  want? 

Lazare  Never  mind  who  lam.  What  do  I  want?  I 
want  the  money  and  jewels  in  that  drawer. 

Madeline  There  is  nothing  in  it. 

Lazare  I  know  better.  I  was  on  the  battle-field.  I  savv 
the  treasure  confided  to  your  husband.  1  followed  him 
and  through  that  window  I  saw  you  put  it  there. 


A    CELEBUATKI)    CA-E.  13 

Madeline  (Shudder/ ii(/.)  Oh,  yon  are  one  of  those  who 
mnrder  and  rob  tlie  wounded  on  the  field  of  battle  ! 

Lazare  \Pointhi(j  to  drawer,^  Enough  of  your  lip; 
open  that  drawer ! 

Madeline  No. 

Lazare  Open  it,  I  tell  you  ! 

Madeline  1  will  not. 

Lazare  [Goinr/  towards  her.^       I'll  d — d  soon  make  you. 

Madeline  Fll  scream  for  help. 

Lazare  [Drawi/ir/  knife.]  Try  it ! 

Madeline  [^Sc.reams.'\    Help  !  [^Rushing  to  window, 

Adrienne  ^la  bedroom.]  Mamma!  mamma! 

(Lazare,  who  has  got  between,  the  room  door  and  Madeline, 
turns  the  key  in  its  lock.  Madeline,  thinking  he  is  going 
to  hurt  the  Child,  springs  toward  hit/i.  Lazahe,  turning, 
catches  her  by  the  xorist,  stands  over  her.) 

Madeline  ^Forcibly.]  Mercj' !  mercy  !     Have  mercy  ! 
Lazare  Another  cry,  and  it's  all  over  with  you  and  vour 
child,  too. 

Madeline  Wretch  ! 

Adrienne  [Inside  room.]  Mamma,  mamma. 

[  Tries  door,  strikes  it  with  her  little  hand", 
Lazare  Shut    the    brat    up,  or — 

[Threatens  her  with  knife. 
Adrienne  [lacking  door,]  Mamma  1  mamma  ! 
Madeline  [Ti^embling.]  Husli,  child,  hush  I 
Lazare  [In    low   voice,   holding    knife    at    Madeline's 
throat.]  Say,  "  I  am  with  your  father." 

Madeline  [Looking  at   him  in  terror,]    I — I  am — with — 
Lazare  [In  low  voice.]  Your  father. 
Madeline  With — your  father  ! 
{Pause. 
Lazare  Now,  then,  that  key — quick  I 
Madeline  [Struggling,]    No,  no  ! 

[Putting  her  hand  in  pocket  and  taking  key, 
Lazare  [Throwing  her  on  her  knees.      Seizes  hand  toiih 
key  in  it,]     I  will  have  it.     Ah  !  here   it  is. 

[Springs  to  dresser. 


14  A    CELEBRATED    CASE. 

Madeline  [Holding  him.\     No — no!     You   shan't!    you 
shan't !  {She  clings  to  him. 

Lazare  I've  had  enough  of  this ! 
\T\irns   round    on  Madeline,  strikes  her  in  the  breast  with 
knife. 

Madeline  [  With  frightful  scream.]  Ah  !  [Falls. 

Adrienne  [Inside.]  Mamma !   mamma  ! 

(Lazare  quickly  gets  casket. 

Madeline  [Trying    to    rise.]     Assassin !     [Dying   voie   j 
Thief !     Assassin  ! 

(Lazare  exits  with  casket  by  window  as  he  entered,  closing 
windoio  after  him. 
Madeline  [Struggling.']  Help !  help  ! 
Adrienne  [Beating  at  room  door.]   Mamma!  marama! 

(Madeline  drags  herself  to  room  door,  l.,  rises  to  her  feet, 
turns  the  key,  the  door  swings  open — Child  and  mother^ 
upright,  stare  at  each  other. 

Madeline  My — my  child.     It  was —  [Feds. 

Adrienne  [Screams.]  Mamma;  mamma! 
Madeline  Help !     Call !     Call  .     I— 
Adrienne  [Running  off  at  door, -r.  3  e.]     Help!    help! 
Come  !  come  !     Mamma — my  poor  mamma  ! 

[Pause. 
Voices  outside  What's  the  matter  \     etc. 
Enter  Women  of  the  early  part  of  the  act,  Marthji    Louisk. 
Some  Men  enter  frst.     They  raise  up  Madeline. 

All  Madeline  ! 

Martha  Wounded — dying  ! 

Madeline  Dying  !     I  want  to — to  tell — tell  ray  chi — ah  ! 

[Falls  back  dead. 
All  Dead  ! 

Enter,  r.  d.,  Seneschal. 

Seneschal  [Entering.']  AVhat's  the  matter  I 
Martha  Look,  look  ! 
Seneschal  Murdered  1 


A    CELEBRATED    CASE.  15 

All  Yes,  murdered  ! 

Seneschal  But   by    whom — who    has    been    here?       M_y 
el)ild,  you  must  have  seen. 

Adrienne  Oh  yes,  yes.      1  heard. 
Seneschal  Who  was  it  ?     Speak. 
Adrienne  [Cr?jin(/.]     It  was  papa. 
All  Her  father! 

CURTAIN. 


PROLOGUE. 

Part  2. 


Camp  of  the  Color  Company/  of  the  Regiment  du  Roi  after 

the  battle  of  Fontenoy. 
At  rise  of  curtain,  the  Company  is  dragon  up,  L.,  in  front  of 
its  stacked  arms.      The  Captain  of  the   Company  is  up 
stage.     John  Renaud  is  in  the  second  rank,  and  holds  in 
his  hand  a  British  flag  evidently  captured  by  him  at  the 
late  battle.  Col.  D'AuBETERKE,/o^/o«wrf  by  several  Officers, 
enters,  r.  h.,  holding  regimental  report  in  his  hand.    As  the 
curtain  is  rising  cries  are  heard  of  "  Long  live  France  /  " 
"  Long  live  the   Colonel.''^      Colonel  makes  sign  of  thanks 
to  Men,  and  at  the  same  time  seems  to  ask  for  silence. 
Col.  [Report  in  hand.]  It  is  with  pride   I    read   that  the 
Color  Company  of  the  Regiment  du  Roi  has  anain  deserved 
the   thanks   of  this  re>:jimetit — and  not  only   those   of    the 
reajiment,  but  of  the  King  himself.     His  Majesty  will   to- 
morrow review  the  army,  and   receive  the   standards   taken 
from  the  enemy.     And  it  is  with  no  small  pride  I  read  that 
the  Color  Company  of  his  own  regiment  has  one  to  present 
to  him.     Be  assured  that  the   name  of  its  captor  shall  be 
made  known  to  His  Majesty. 

l^^jjong  live  the  King  P'  "  Long  live  the  Colonel  P 
Captain  makes  sign.  John  Renaud  steps  forward  bearing 


16  A    CELEBEATED    CASE. 

flag ;    goes   to    Colonel ;    salutes ;    hands   Jfag.      Colonel 

takes  flag ;  hands  it  to   Officer  behind  him. 

And  in  bis  name  I  thank   this   conipan}-  for  the  glory  it 
has  shed  over  the  regiment  I  have  the  honor  to  cominann. 
("  Long  live  the  King  P''     '•  Long  live  our  Colonel  /'' 

Col.  [  To  Captain.]  And  now,  Captain,  I  will  not  keep 
these  brave  men  any  longer  from  drinking  the  King's  health. 

[Krit  to  tent,  luith  ;3   Officers. 

Captain    Company,    right  face  !     The   company    is    dis- 
missed. ILxit  to  tent,  k. 
(Soldiei's  cheer. 

One  Soldier  Vive  Jean  Renaud  ! 

All  Vive  Jean  Renaud  ! 

CRourke  [^Coining  forward.^  Xow,  then !  the  Vivan- 
di^res  !  the  Vivandieres  !  a  health  to  our  Colonel — the  hero 
of  Fontenoy ! 

All.  Yes,  yes;  a  health  to  the  Colonel — the  hero  of  Fon- 
tenoy ! 

( Vivandieres  move  around  giving  liquor  in  wooden  cans 
hooped  loith  silver  to  the  Soldiers. 

CRourke.  The  King  knew  on  which  side  his  bread  was 
buttered  when  he  made  the  Count  d'Aubeterre  our  Colonel. 
Hard  as  flint  on  duty,  and  with  a  heart  like  a  colleen's  off  it. 

Corporal.  He's  the  kind  of  a  colonel  I  like — one  who 
when  the  drum  is  heard  never  says  Go !  but  cries  out  Come  ; 

O^Rourke.  And  it's  himself  who  on  that  blessed  field  has 
earned  the  gratitude  of  the  two  greatest  nations  of  the  earth 
— France  and — 

Corporal.  And  ? 

CRourke.  Ireland.  [All  laugh. 

Corporal.  Ireland  isn't  a  nation. 

CRourke.  Tare  an'  ages  1  This  from  a  Fnnchman  on  the 
day  of  Fontenoy!     If  ye  wasn't  my  infayrior  officer — 

Corporal.  No  ottVnce  meant,  Sergeant. 

CRourke.  Say  no  more !  say  no  more  !  Ireland  owns 
the  Colonel  of  this  rigiment  too  great  a  debt  this  day  for  mo 
to  quarrel  with  any  mini  her  of  it. 

Corporal.  What  did  the  Colonel  do  ? 


A    CELEBRATED    CASK.  17 

O^Hourke.     He  saved  my  life. 

Corporal.  How? 

O'Rourke.  You  know  when  the  cintre  was  attacked  and 
we  all  thought  it  was  up  with  us.  Well,  I  was  blind  as  a 
bat  with  the  smoke  and  the  soft  dirt  the  grape  and  canister 
was  poucing  around,  I  found  myself  separated  from  my 
men  and  suiTounded  by  a  lot  of  the  red-coated  divils.  I 
worked  away  with  bayonet  and  butt ;  I  thought  it  was  all 
up  with  Dinis  O'Rourke,  when  I  heard  the  cry,  "  A  D'Aube- 
terre  !  "  D'Aubeterre  !"  There  was  the  Colonel  on  his  big  bay 
horse,  cutting  a  man  down  on  the  left,  anoiher  on  the  right, 
trampling  down  the  one  in  front  of  him.  "Jump  up  behind. 
Sergeant,"  he  roared.  I  always  obey  orders,  and  I  got  up  be- 
hind. He  made  a  ring  around  him  while  the  horse  pranced 
round  to  the  music  of  the  balls.  Suddenly  a  yell  rose  over 
the  din.  "  Dim's  the  Irish  !"  I  whispered.  "  The  brigade,"  he 
replied  ;  and  before  I  knew  it  the  English  was  on  the  run, 
and  I  was  with  our  rigiment  driving  the  scoundrels  as  they 
were  never  driven  before.  And  I  say  the  noblest  action 
done  on  that  field  was  the  salvation  of  Dinis  O'Rourke,  and 
the  securin'  of  his  bed  and  boord  for  life.  \^Laugh. 

Corporal.  Bed  and  board  ? 

0''liourJce.  Why,  av  coorse  !  He  saved  my  life,  and  it  is 
his  duty  to  take  care  of  me.  He's  morally  obHgated  to  do 
it.     He's  as  a  father  to  me  now.         [  Winking  cunningly. 

The  Soldiers  [Laughing).  Ah  !  ah  !  [^All  go  up  and  of. 

Corporal.  And  the  Countess  d'Aubeterre  is  his  mother. 

The  Soldiers  [Laughing.)  Ah!  Ah! 

[O'RouRKK  takes  can  from  a  Vivandidre. 
[  The   Colonel  enters  from  tent  tvith  several  Officers  of  the 

Regiment.     As  they  come  doiun  the  stage  the  Soldiers  re^ 

sped  fully  go  up  stage. 

Colonel  [To  Officers.]  The  guards  are  posted.  See  that 
the  men  get  good  rest.  And  when  night  comes,  if  you  will 
do  me  the  honor  to  share  my  tent,  we'll  not  fail  to  celebrate 
this  glorious  day. 

[  Officers  salute,  go  up  stage.      Sentinels  are  placed  at  back. 
Enter  John  Renaud,  l.  3  e. 

John  [Aside.~\  Though  there  is  to  be  no  battle  to-morrow, 
I'll  sleep  better  to-night  than  last. 

Colonel.  John  Renaud  !    [John  $alutes.'\  To-morrow  you 


18  A    CELEBRATED    CASE. 

will  write  to  your  wife.  Assure  her  that  the  Countess 
d'Aubeterre  has  never  forgotten  her,  and  will  always  be 
happy  to  hear  of  her  well-doing ;  and  accept  my  congratu- 
lations on  the  heroism  of  your  conduct  on  the  field. 

John.  Both  my  wife  and  I,  Colonel,  are  deeply  grateful 
for  the  many  benefits  we  have  received  from  you  and  the 
Countess,  believe  rae,  sir. 

Colonel.   I  do  believe  it,  John.  [^Nods. 

[John  goes  up  stage  and  exits  l. 
[^Colonel,  turning^  sees  O'Eourke  standing  at  entrance  of  tent, 

B. 

G^RourJce.  Waiting  orders,  Colonel — the  orders  of  my 
saviour. 

Colonel.  Your  saviour? 

O^Rourke.  Ay,  sure — my  second  father,  from  whom  I  cm 
nivir  part. 

Colonel.  Till  the  war  is  over,  eh  ? 

CRourke.  Share  it's  thin  I  can't  part  from  ye  at  all. 
You  saved  my  life ;  and  that's  the  same  thing  as  givin'  me 
my  life.  You  are  all  the  family  I  have.  You  are  my  father 
— the  only  father  and  mother  I  have.     I'll  nivir  layve  you. 

Sentry  at  hack  \^Corjx)ral .'\   Halt,  there  ! 

Colonel.  What's  that  ?  [Looking  off  r,  u.  e. 

O^Rourke  [Gone  up  stage.^  Ah  !  the  Seneschal.  [  Outside  ;] 
Who  do  ye  want,  sir? 

Seneschal.  I  must  see  the  Colonel,  Count  d'Aubeterre,  at 
once,  at  once ! 

Count  [Turns  to  sentrg.]  Let  him  pass.  [IJnter  Seneschal, 
R.  3  E.,  down  R.  c]     Do  you  wish  to  see  me  ? 

[O'RouRKE  exits  L.  u.  E. 

Seneschal  [Coming  down.^  Excuse  me,  Count.  I  am  the 
Seneschal  of  Montacrne.  We  had  some  trouble  to  o-et  as  far 
as  this. 

Colonel.  Then  you  are  not  alone  ? 

Seneschal.  There  are  a  woman  and  a  child  with  me.  They 
are  waiting  out  there. 

Colonel.  Well,  what  is  the  matter  ? 

Seneschal.  The  matter,  sir,  is  one  most  serious,  and  it  is 
one  I  could  confide  to  yon  alone. 

[Colonel  makes  a  sign  ;  everybody  moves  away. 

Colonel.  Goon,  sir!  (^Coming  a  step  forward. 


A    CELEBRATED    CASE.  19 

Seneschal  You  have  in  your  regiment  a  private  named 
John  Renaud  ? 

Gol  Yes. 

Seneschal  His  wife,  I  believe,  was  foster-sister  to  your 
Countess,  sir. 

Col  Yes.  She  was  a  good  aii<l  noble  girl,  and  must  have 
raade  an  excellent  wife. 

Seneschal  She  died  last  night — murdered  ! 

Col  Murdered  ! 

Seneschal  The  poor  woman's  cries  and  the  screams  of 
her  unfortunate  child  drew  the  neighbors  to  the  spot.  But 
too  late — the  miserable  assassin  had  already  escaped. 

Col  What  was  the  object  of  the  crime  ?     Theft  ? 

Sensechal  Oh,  no. 

Col  Revenge  ? 

Seneschal  That,  and  that  alone. 

Col  Then  somebody  is  suspected. 

Seneschal  The  whole  village  unites  in  accusing  one  man. 

Col  What  man  ? 

Seneschal  John  Renaud. 

Col  Her  husband  !  Pshaw  !  It's  impossible.  The  accu- 
sation falls  to  the  ground  of  itself.  John  Renaud  was  at 
the  camp. 

Seneschal  He  visited  his  home  last  night. 

Col  Take  care,  sir.  You  are  advancing  a  very  serious 
charge;  for  even  if  he  be  innocent  of  the  crime  of  murder, 
in  abandoning  his  post  in  front  of  the  enemy  Jean  Renaud 
would  stand  in  imminent  danger. 

Seneschal  I  charge  nothing,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  that  I 
cannot  prove. 

Col  ( Up  stage  to  O'Rourke.)  O'Rourke,  let  John  Re- 
naud be  called.  (To  some  officers  tn  tent,  r.  h.)  Ap- 
proach, gentlemen.  I  wish  you  to  hear  this  matter.  You, 
Captain,  I  will  need  to  draw  up  some  charges  and  specifica- 
cations. 
[One  of  the  Officers  makes  a  sign  to  a  Private,  who  goes  into 

the    tent  and     comes   out  with  'writing  materials. — ^ote. 

The  paper    ought  to  be  in  a    large    portfolio  on    small 

camp-table  and  camp-stool.      Captain  sits,  R.  H.,  7iear    tent 

and  tvrites. 


20  A    CELEBRATED   CASE. 

Enter  from  hack  of  stage,  l.  it.  c,  O'Rotjrke  and  Sons  Re- 

NAUD.     The  Seneschal  is  with  the  Colonel  a  little  aside,  talk- 
ing in  low  voice.    Soldiers  enter  one  by  one  and  group,  l.  h, 

Oi2oMr^-e  (To  Renaud.)  It's  the  Colonel  that   wants   you. 

John  (  Uneasihj)   What  for  ?     Do  you  know  ? 

0''Rourke  Indayd  an'  I  don't. 

(John   advances ;    salutes. 

Col.  [Apjyroaching  John)  Renaud,  how  long  is  it  since  you 
left  your  village  to  re-enter  the  service  ? 

John  About  two  months,  Colonel. 

Col  Have  you,  in  that  time — [To  Captain  :)  Take  down 
l)is  answers  in  narrative  form.  [To  Renaud  :)  Have 
you  in  that  time  been  absent  without  leave? 

John  No,  Colonel. 

Col  After  the  skirmish  last  night  did  you  accompany  the 
retreat  ? 

John  Yes,  sir. 

Col  [To  an  Officer)  He  was  in  your  command  ? 

Officer  Yes.     We  were  a  good  ways  behind   the  column. 

Col  I  know  it. 

Officer  It  was  very  dark.  We  had  to  feel  our  way 
through  the  wood 

Col  And  so  lost  much  time.  But,  once  in  camp,  did  you 
call  the  roll  ? 

Officer  Yes,  sir. 

Col  Did  John  Renaud  answer  in  person? 

Officer  He  did. 

John  [Aside)  How  my  heart  beats  ! 

CRourke  [Aside)  What  the  divil  is  up  now  ? 

Col  John  Renaud,  the  Seneschal  of  your  vnllage  has  just 
brought  some  fearful  news,  news  which  I  am  sorry  to  l)e 
forced  to  tell  you.  A  terrible  crime  has  been  committed  in 
your  house. 

John  [Terrified)  A  crime — in  my  house  !  Speak — for 
Heaven's  sake,  Colonel,   tell  me  ! 

Col  Your  wife — 

John  Well — well — Madeline  I 

Col  Madeline — has — has  been — 
John  What? 

Col  Assassinated  ! 


A    CELKBItATEI)    CASE.  21 

John  Assassinated — Madeline — assassinated  !  No  !  no  ! 
I  can't  have  heard  rightly — it  isn't  possible !  Madeline, 
Madeline —  ! 

O'Rourke  {Going  to  him)  My  old  friend — my  old 
comrade — bear  up  ! 

John  Do  you  understand  it  ? — dead  1  She  !  My  wife  ! 
Why,  you  saw  her  yesterday  full  of  life,  of  love,  of  hope ! 
{Breaks  into  tears.)     Dead  !  dead  !     My  wife  ! 

Col  {To  O'RouRKE.)  Did  you  see  his  wife,  yesterday, 
Sergeant  ? 

b''Rourke  Last  night,  Colonel,  as  I  was  pasamg  through 
the  village,  escorting  the  ammunition  train. 

Seneschal  True.  It  was  but  a  few  minutes  after  that  her 
cries  roused  the  neighbors  in  whose  arms  she  died. 

John  {Still  crying)  Murdered!  murdered! 

Col  {To  John)  And  do  you  know  {glances  at  writing 
Officer^  then  looks  at  Johii)  whom  they  accuse  of  this 
murder?     (Renaud  looks  at  Colonel.)    It  is  you. 

John  Me  !     Me ! 

CRourke  Him — oh.  Colonel ! 

Col  Yes,  you.  They  say  {looking  at  Seneschal)  that  dur- 
ing one  of  those  jealous  quarrels  so  often  heard  in  your  house, 
yon — 

John  Is  not  the  wee  with  which  I  am  stricken  enongh  ? 
Is  it  not  enough  to  have  lost  her,  and  with  her  all  joy, 
all  hope  in  life — is  not  this  enough  without  accusing —  ? 
My  God,  and  what  an  accusation !  But  you — you, 
Colonel — you  could  not  for  an  instant  believe  that !  you've 
known  me  too  well  !  you  know  me  to  be  an  honest  man  ! 
you've  seen  me  twenty  times  risk  my  life  under  your  Tery 
eyes — you  never  knew  me  to  fail  in  my  duty — you  know  me. 

CRourke  Every  man  in  the  regiment  can  bear  witness  to 
that. 

Col  Seneschal ! 

[^Seneschal  steps  to  Colonel  /  they  converse  in  loio  tones. 

Seneschal  {In  low  voice)  The  child  is  there. 
Col  {In  low  tone)  Very  well.  {Aloud  :)  You  say,  Renaud, 
you  never  failed  in  your  duty  as  a  soldier  ? 
John  {Hesitating)  Why — no,  Colonel. 


22  A    CELEBRATED    CASE. 

Col  {To  the  Seneschal)   Bring  in  the  child. 

l^Seneschal  bows,  goes  to  r.  u.  e.,  and  maJces  sign  of. 

John  (Suddenly  raising  himself  erect)  Child  ?  What  child  ? 

Col  Yours. 

John  My  child  here — she  here  ? 
\Is  about  to  spring  to  meet  her  ;  is  stopped  by  the  Colonel. 

Col  Stop  !    Stop,   I    say,  and  do  not  utter    one  word ! 
Wait  till  1  question  you — till  then  stand  aside. 

John  {Stepping  up  stage)  Could  not  one  ball  out  of  the 
thousands  reach  me  ? 

CRourke  {Going  with  him)  The  colleeu  will  clear  you — 
sure  she  will  tell  'em  how  you  loved  her  mother. 
Enter  Adriexne,  led  in  by  Martha,  r.  u.  e,,  the  Seneschal 
having  signed  to  them  to  come  forward. 

Martha  Come,  deary,  come  !  don't  he  afraid. 

Adrienne  [Trembling,    holding    to   Martha's   dress,  and 
keeping  very  close  to  her)  I'm  not  afraid. 

Seneschal  (Kindly)  Come  closer,  dear,  come  closer. 

Adrienne  Am  I  going  to  see  papa  ? 

Col  Yes,  in  a  liUle  while.     But  tell  me  when   did  you 
see  him  last?  [  Adrienne  seems  unwilling  to  answer. 

John  [A  little  tip  stage,  unseen  by   Child)  What  will  she 
say  ? 

Col  No  doubt  your  mother  told  you  to  always  tell  the 
truth. 

Adrienne  Yes,  sir ;  and  so  did  papa. 

Col  Well,  tell  me  when  did  you  last  see  your  father? 
\^Child  looks  doivn  and  remains  silent. 

Col  Come,  come,  my  child,  tell  me. 

Adrienne  {Trembling)  You  see — I — I  can't  tell. 

Col  Why? 

Adrienne  Because  mamma  always  told  me  to  tell  the  truth 
and — 

Col  {Coaxingly)   Well? 

Adrienne  And  papa  told  me  I  must   not   tell   he   was   at 
home  last  nigbt. 

All  Ah  ! 

Col  You  are  very  sure  you  saw  him  ? 

Adrienne  Yes,  sir. 

Col  At  vour  own  house! 


A   CELBBRArEO    CASE.  28 

Adrienne  Yes,  sir.     He  kissed  me,  and  tlien   put  me  in 
tiie  bedroom  for  me  to  go  to  sleep,  because  it  was  late. 
Col  And  then — 

Adrienne  Then  mamma  shut  the  door ;  but  I  heard  them 
talking. 

Col  [Making  sign  toivards  John)  Come  forward.    What 
have  you  to  say  ? 

Adrienne  {Seeing  John)  Oh  papa,  papa  ! 
\Is  about   to  rush  to  him,  hut  is  stopped  by  Seneschal  and 
Colonel. 
Col  {To  John)  Well  ?     You  are  silent  ? 
John  The  child  tells  the  truth. 

Col  It  took  her  overwhelming  testimony  to  wring  it  from 
you. 

John  I  did  go  home,   but  did   I   not  return    before    the 
battle — and  do  a  soldier's  duty  ? 

Col  More — a  hero's  duty  ;  and  your  heroism  might  atone 
for  your  guilty  absence.     It  is  not  of  desertion  you  are  now 
accused,  but  of  murder. 
John  Murder  1 

Col  What  motive  could  induce  so  good  and  brave  a 
soldier  to  commit  such  a  breach  of  discipline  at  such  a  time? 
John  A  motive,  Colonel,  you  can  readily  understand  ;  I 
wished,  before  the  battle,  to  place  in  ray  wife's  hands  a 
sacred  deposit  made  me  by  the  Count  de  Mornay,  whom 
I  found  dying  on  the  field  after  the  skirmish. 
Col  What  was  this  deposit  ? 

John  Valuable  jewels,  family  papers,  and  three  hundred 
louis  in  gold  and  bills. 

Col  {To  Seneschal)  Was  the  house  searched  ? 
Seneschal  Every  drawer,  nook,  and  crevice  of  it.     Noth- 
ingof  that  sort  was  found. 

John  { Quickly)  Then  the  house  was  robbed  ! 
Seneschal  Not  a  latch,  not  a  lock  was  broken  ;  there  was 
no  tvace  of  a  burglary  anywhere. 

^Soldiers  show  signs  of  eager  interest. 
Col  Yet  you  say  the  poor  woman  defended  herself. 
Seneschal  She  cried  for  help  ;  so  did  the  little  one. 
Col  {To  Child.)  Tell  me,  my  dear  :  you  say  when  you  were 
shut  up  in  the  bedroom  you  could  hear  mamma  and  papatalk- 
inar? 


'24:  A    CELEBRATED    CASE. 

Adrienne  Yes,  sir;  after  a  little  I  thought  papa  was 
angry — they  talked  so  loud. 

John  There  the  child  is  mistaken ;  we  exclianged  no 
words  but  words  of  affectiou  and  tenderness.  If  another — 
if  some  thief — the  assassin — came  after  I  left,  the  child,  shut 
up  as  she  was,  could  not  distinguish  the  voice  from  mine. 

Col  And  what  did  mamma  say  ? 

Adrienne  Mamma  cried  out,  "  Mercy,  mercy  !  have 
mercy !" 

John  Ah !  it  was  to  the  assassin  she  cried  that. 

Col.  But  are  you  very  sure  it  was  to  your  father  she  said 
that? 

Adrienne  Yes,  sir ;  I  was  frightened — I  wanted  to  get 
out — I  called. 

John  (  With  authority)  Enough  !  No  more — no  more. 
Say  not  another  word. 

Col.  What  does  this  mean  ? 

John  {^To  Colonel)  Colonel,  this  is  horrible.  What?  Force 
a  child  to  testify  against  its  own  father — to  accuse,  convict 
him  ?  It  is  a  sacrifice — an  outrage  against  nature !  In 
Heaven's  name,  ask  her  no  more.  Let  me  be  tried — I'll 
otfer  no  defence.  I've  faced  death  often  enough,  and  what 
do  1  care  for  life,  now  Madeline  is  dead !  I'll  plead  guilty — 
"do  anything  you  like — all  I  ask  is  that  you  will  not  condemn 
this  child  to  live  with  her  heart  ever  crying  to  her,  "You  con- 
demned your  own  father — you  killed  him."  I  tell  you  I 
won't  have  it. 

Col.   It  is  my  duty  to  examine  her. 

John  To  what  end,  if  I  offer  no  defence  ? 

Col.  We  must  know  the  truth.  Tell  me,  my  child,  when 
you  cried  oat  on  hearing  your  mother  call  for  mercy,  who 
answered  you  ? 

Adrienne  Mamma. 

Col.   W  hat  did  she  say  ? 

Adrienne  She  said  :  "  Hush,  child,  hush  1  I  am  with  voui 
father." 

John  [Half  screaming)  k\x\ 

{^All  shudder  at  this. 
Col  You  hear  ?     "  I  am  with  your  father." 


A    CELEBKATEl)    CASE.  25 

John  God  help  me  !    It  is  terrible  ! 
Col  [To  Child)  You  are  very  sure  she  said  that? 
Adrienne  Oh,  yes.     She  sobbed  when  she  said  it. 
John  Well,  it  is  all  over ! 

Col  John  Renaud,  to-morrow  you  will  be  called  for  trial 
before  a  court-martial. 
John  To  be  convicted. 

( On  a  sign  from  the  Colonel,  John  takes  off  his  sabre  and 
bayonet  and  hands  them  to  O'Rourke,  who  wipes  his  eyes 
and  takes  them.) 

CRourke  [Aside  to  John)  John,  I  believe  you  innocent, 
and  I  always   will.  (John  shakes  O'Rourke's  hand. 

Col  [^To  one  of  the  Officers^  Call  a  guard  there  and  re- 
move the  prisoner. 

[Officer  signs  to  the  Corporal,  who  goes  off  and  immediately 
returns  with  two  Soldiers,  who  stand  at  back,  r.  and  l.  c. 

John  [Supplicatingly]  May  I  kiss  my  child  before  I  go  ? 

[The  Colonel  makes  sign  of  consent.     John  holds  out  his  arms, 

the  Child  springs  to  him.     He  folds  her  in  his  arms,  unable 

to  speak ;  kisses  her.     All  around  observing    them  with 

painful  interest.   The  Colonel  signs  to  Captain,  who  brings 

him   the  paper  he  had  written  on.       The  Colonel  signs  it. 

Adrienne  You  are  crying,  papa.      Have  I  done  wrong — 

you  know  you  too  told  me  a  soldier's  daughter  should  never 

tell  a  lie. 

Jolin  [Chokingly]  No,  no,  my  darling,   my   angel  !  it  is 

not  your  fault.     Do  not  now,  and  never  in  the  future,  allow 

your  heart  to    accuse  you.     Blot  it  all  from  your  memory, 

but  if  it  will  come  back  when  you   can  understand  it  all, 

then  remember,  darling,  that  I  hold  you  innocent,  and  let 

my  last  words  remain  graven   on  your  memory —  You  have 

killed  me,  my  poor  child,  but  I  love  and  I  forgive  you. 

[John   embraces  the  Child.    Pause.      Corporal  comes  down, 

touches    him    on    the   shoulder.       John  gives   Child    to 

O'RouRKE,  who  takes  her  in    his  arms.     John  goes  up 

betu'een  Soldiers,  makes  a  final  motion  of  farewell  towards 

Child  as 

curtain    falls. 


26  A    CELEBRATED    CASE. 


ACT   I. 


Park  of  the  Chateau  d'' Auheterre  on  the  side  of  a  hill, 
near  Toxilon^  France.  At  the  r.,  tvell  hack,  a  walk  shaded 
well  by  trees  and  leadi7ig  to  on^  egress  from  the  Park.  At 
the  L.,  resting  on  natural  rocks,  a  terrace  overlooking  the 
public  highioay  supposed  to  pass  in  front  of  said  Park. 
Drop  represents  beautiful  Provencal  landscape,  the  horizon 
of  which  meets  the  sea.  In  one  of  the  rocks,  r,,  is  a  spring 
of  fresh  water,  for  the  reception  of  which  loater  a  basin 
has  been  rudely  scooped  out  of  the  rock  itself.  Climbing 
shrubbery  well  down  the  stage  ;  L.,  up  stage,  flight  of  marble 
steps  leading  to  Chateau. 

At  rise  of  curtain,  Adrienne  and  the  Duchess  d'Aube- 
TERRE  are  sitting  well  doivn  L.  H.  The  Duchess  is  read- 
ing from  a  book.  Adrienne  is  embroidering.  The 
Duchess  commences  the  conversation,  laying  doivn  her 
book  as  she  does  commence. 

Duchess  Don't  you  think  your  father  stays  very 
long,  Adrienne  ? 

Adrienne  It  is  quite  a  distance  to  Toulon.  It  takes 
an  hour  to  go,  an  hoiir  to  return.  He  had  to  see  about 
the  new  works  to  which  the  convicts  are  to  be  sent- 
Papa  can't  expect  to  have  been  created  Duke  d'Aube. 
terre,  been  made  a  General,  and  Governor  of  Provence 
in  order  to  do  nothing,  you  know. 

Duchess  True,  child ;  but  I  am  always  miserable 
when  either  of  you  is  away  from  me.  I  was  so  the 
whole  four  years  you  were  at  the  College  of  Heyres, 
though  I  knew  you  were  under  a  better  guai'dianship 
than  my  own  when  with  the  Chanoincsse.  You  see  I 
have  no  child  but  you,  and  my  heart — [Duke  speaks  out- 
side.)— Ah,  here  is  your  father, 

Duke  (Outside.)  Pshaw!  a  soldier.  Come  along,  man, 
the  Chateau  d'Aubeterre  is  not  the  Palais  de  Versailles. 

[Adrienne,  rising,  rushes  to  meet  her  father,  who  enters  \i. 
by  gate  of  Park,  and  ivho  takes  Adrienne  in  his  arms 
and  kisses  Iter. 


A    CELEBRATED    CASE.  27 

Adrienne  Who  is  with  you  ? 

Duke  A  lieutenant. 

Adrienne  What  lieutenant  ? 

[  Js  theij  come  doum  to  the  Duchess. 

Duke  Lieutenant  Raonl  de  Langey.  [T'o  Duchess  :] 
Arrived  yesterday. 

Adrienne  And  he  is  now  a  lieutenant  ? 

Duke  Yes.  In  two  or  three  days  I  shall  present  hiai 
to  the  Duke  de  Choiseuil,  who  will  honor  us  with  a 
visit. 

Duchess  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  the  boy,  and  proud  to 
welcome  the  Minister  of  France.     But  where  is  Kaoul  ? 

Duke  [Lauffhinff^  Oh,  he's  stopped  at  every  step  by 
some  delighted  member  of  the  household.  Even 
O'Rourke,  out  of  whom  I  have  never  been  able  to  obtain 
the  slightest  service,  is  now  dusting  him  from  head  to 
foot. 

Raoul  \^Outside,  then  entering,  persistentbj  followed  by 
O'Rourke  dusting  his  back  as  he  goes.]  Thanks,  friends, 
thanks  !     Thanks,  O'Rourke. 

0''Rourke  Sure  an'  it's  wilkum  ye  are,  Lieutenant. 

[Raoul  goes  quickly  over  to  Duchess  and  kisses  her  hand. 

Duchess  Welcome,  Chevalier. 

Raoul  [^Crosses  to  Adrienne]  Mademoiselle! 

Adrierme    [With  emphasis]    Lieutenant. 

[^Ceremonious  minuet,  courtesy. 
Duke  [Laughing.]  Phew  !  How  cei'emonious  you  are  ! 
0''Rourke  [Aside]  It's  kissing  aych  other  they'd  like  to 
be  instead  of  bobbin'  up  and  down  in  that  way. 
Duke  O'Rourke! 

[O'Rourke  keeps    his  eye  upon  the  young  people,  not  heed- 
ing thecall  of  the  Duke. 

G^Roarke  [Aside]  It's  a  pritty  couple  they'd  make. 
Duke  [Impatiently]  O'Rourke  ! 

QPRourke  [Same  business]  That  couple  is  made  for  aycli 
other  as  sure  as  the  soord  is  made  for  the  scabbard. 
Duke  [Angrily]  O'Rourke  ! 
O^Rourke  Has  yer  Grace  anything  to  communicate '? 


28  A    CELEBEA.TED    CASE 

Duke  I  called  you  three  times !  Are  you  becoming 
deaf? 

O'Eourke  How  can  I  oblige  yere  Grace  ? 

Duke  Get  seats. 

O'Rourke  Sayts,  iz  it?  Av  coorse — av  coorse — Gen- 
eral.    \_Goes  up  stage.^     Joseph  ! 

Enter  Joseph. 

Joseph,  his  Grace  wants  to  sit  down. 

\Joseph  brings  some  chairs  forward.     All  sit  down  and  talk 
in  loio  voice. 

Duke  [To  O'Rotjeke]  Why  did  you  not  bring  the 
seats  yourself  ? 

O^Bourke  I  beg  your  Grace's  pardon  ;  but  what  would 
Joseph  have  been  doing  in  the  niayne  thime  ? 

Duke  And  in  the  mean  time  what  did  you  do  ? 

O'Eourke  Me,  your  Grace  ?     Oh,  nawthin,  av  coorse. 

Duke  Nothing,  of  course,  as  usual. 

O'Eourke  [With  kind  patronizing  mannerly  As  usual,  av 
coorse. 

Duke  [Drglg]    Very  well.  I'll  talk  to  you  by  and  by 

O'Eourke  Yis,  your  Grace — by  and  by.  I  haven't  had 
my  poipe  yit.  [Starts  to  go. 

Duke  O'Rourke! 

O'Eourke  [Stop2nng]  Yis,  sir. 

Duke  I've  not  had  my  coffee. 

O'Eourke  Begora,  I  forgot.  I  haven't  had  mine 
ayther !  An'  I'd  betther  go  and  get  it.       [Exit  up  stage. 

Duke  [To  Adrienne]  You  see  how  impossible  it  is  to 
do  anything  with  the  fellow.  There  must  be  an  end 
to  it. 

Adrienne  Don't  be  angry,  father.  I'll  order  your 
coffee  myself.  [Uxits  over  terrace,  l.  3  e. 

Duke  [Looking  after  her]  You  must  tind  that  Adrienne 
has  much  changed  during  your  tAvo  years  of  absence. 
She's  a  young  woman  now — fit  to  be  married. 

Eaoul  [Trorihled]  Yes — yes — and  probably  she  will  be 
soon  ? 

Duke  As  soon  as  we  can  find  a  gentleman  worthy  of 
her.     I  must  have  a  lofty  name. 


A    CELEBRATED    CASE.  29 

Raoul.  And — doubtless  a  large  fortune. 

Duchess.  That  is  indispensable  in  our  tijne. 

Duke  In  all  times,  ray  dear.  She  must  be  able  to 
fitly  hold  her  rank  at  Court. 

Raoul  (^Sighing.')  True,  sir. 

Adrienne.  {^Entering,  followed  by  Joseph  xoith  truy.) 
What  are  you  talking  about  ? 

Duke  Of  the  coming  time  when  you  will  leave  us. 

Adrienne  Leave  you '?     What  for  ? 

Duke  To  get  married. 

Adrienne  {Handing  Duke  a  cup  of  coffee.)  Oh,  that  day 
I  hope  is  yet  far  away  !  /  am  not  one  of  those  birds 
who  like  to  fly  away  as  soon  as  they  feel  their  wings, 
Mr.  Lieutenant. 

Raoul  One  cannot  always  help  it.  A  soldier  must 
follow  his  flag. 

Duke  (^Putting  back  cup.)  Joseph  !  take  this  away. 
Tell  O'Rourke  to  bring  me  those  papers  I  brought  from 
Tuulon,  and  bid  them  saddle  a  horse  for  M.  Raoul  de 
Langey. 

Adrienne  Going  again,  so  soon  ? 

Duke  Yes.  He  must  go  and  meet  a  convoy  of  galley 
slaves  that  ai-e  being  transferred  to  Toulon  on  the  new 
works.  I  had  him  assigned  the  duty  that  he  might 
visit  us 

Re-enter  Joseph,  -with  papers^  l.  down  steps. 

Well  !   Why  didn't  O'Rourke  bring  them  ? 

Joseph  This  is  Mr.  O'Rourke's  time  for  his  evening 
walk,  sir. 

Duke  Indeed  !     Tell  him  to  come  to  me. 

{Reads  papers  and  signs  some. 

Raoul  [As  if  about  to  start.)  I  must  a)'«o  visit  my 
god-mother,  the  Directress  of  .the  College  of  Hyeres. 

Duchess  A  noble  lady.  I'll  never  forget  her  kind- 
ness to  Adrienne  during  the  four  years  she  spent  there. 
But  you  need  not  go  to  Hyeres  to  see  her.  She  will  be 
here  in  an  instant. 

Adrienne  Yes,  with  my  dearest  friend,  my  college 
companion — my  sister,  my  dear  Valentine. 

Duke  [Rising.^    Time  is  up,  Raoul.     You  will  ex 


JO  A   CELEBRATED    CASE. 

changft  tliese  papers  with  the  officer  you  are  to  relieve. 
Now  be  off. 

Enter  Chanoinesse  and  Valentine,  r.  3  e. 

Chan  [Enterbu/.l     Must  he  go,  just  as  I  come  ? 

Raoid  God -mother  ! 

Chan  Don't  be  surprised.  \^Boios  all  round.  Val- 
entine rushes  to  Adrienne.  Thei/  lohisper  eagerly.^  I 
knew  that  line  officer  liad  returned,  (with  finesse,)  and 
felt  sure  I'd  find  him  here.  (Touching  Raoul  on  lyreast :) 
The  iron  lieart  turns  to  the  magnet,  eh  ? 

DuJte  You  must  not  detain  him.  Raoul,  run.  Jump 
in  your  saddle.     You  can  be  back  in  half  an  hour. 

Chan  Don't  spare  the  spur,  for  I  have  to  tell  you  of 
^ome  matters  of  the  utmost  importance. 

Raoul  Trust  my  impatience. 

[^Kisses  Chan's  hand  ;  hows  to  the  rest,  and  rushes  off. 

Chun  [Lookinff  after  him.^  He  is  a  fine,  gallant  fel- 
low. (Sif/hs.)  The  very  image  of  his  father  !  Isn't 
he,  Governor? 

Duke  [Smiling.]     Yes, the  same  frank,  noble  bearing. 

Chan  The  same  bright  yet  soft  eyes.  (As  if  chasing 
away  some  memory :)  But  let  us  talk  of  something 
else.  Valentine  !  [  To  Duke  and  Duchess.]  My  favorite 
pupil,  almost  my  daughter,  tlie  friend  of  yours  during 
her  stay  at  college.  She  is  the  daughter  of  a  proscribed, 
family,  left  in  my  care  with  such  extreme  caution  that 
Valentine  is  the  ojily  name  I  call  her  by.  But  I  see 
they  wish  to  talk.  Here  that's  not  forbidden.  At  col- 
lege it  is,  and  therefore  they  talk  all  the  more,  {Laugh- 
ing!)    Forbidden  fruit. 

[Chanoinesse    and  Duchess   exit  to    Chateau,  l.  3  e., 
as  O'RouRKE  enters,  c,  over  terrace. 

Dake  [To  O'RouRKE.]     Oh  !  there  you  are,  are  you  ? 

Adrienne  Father ! 

Buke  Well  ? 

Adrienne  For  my  sake  do  not  be  angry  with 
O'liourke.  Remember  how,  when  I  had  recovered  from 
my  long  illness  and  could  not  remember  either  my 
mother  or  you,  I  recognized  his  face  ;  and  it  seems  to 
me  as  if  I  had  known  and  loved  him  for  his  love  for  me 
b)  unother  world.     Father,  bear  with  him  for  my  sake. 


A   CELEBRATED   CASH.  81 

Duhe  [Much  moved.']  I  will,  dear,  I  will.  \ Louder] 
O'Rourke  ! 

G'lioiirlce  Can  I  serve  your  Grace  in  any  way  ? 

Duke  Come  with  me.  [To  Adriennb  :]  I  leave  you 
with  your  young  friend,  Ma'amselie. 

\_Bows  to  Valentine,  loJio  courtesies  in  return. 

[Duke  exits,  folloioed  by  O'Rourke,  toho  as  he  goes  out 
tur7is  and  bloios  a  kiss  to  Adribnne,  toho  returns  it.] 
B9th  girls  walking  to  and  fro,  arms  about  each  other's 
waists.] 

Valentine  Oh  it's  so  nice  to  be  together  again  !  And 
now  tell  me  are  you  entirely  recovered  ? 

Adrienne  From  the  delirious  fevers  I  used  to  have,  I 
think  I  am. 

Valentine  And  those  strange  visions  that  troubled  you 
so  much  ? 

Adrienne  They  disappeared  for  a  time.  But  lately  at 
night  they  come  again  ;  only  last  night — 

Valentine  Were  you  ill  ? 

Adrienne  No,  I  fell  asleep  calmly  enough.  But  in 
the  middle  of  the  night  I  felt  my  heart  beat  strangely. 
I  woke.  I'm  sure  I  woke.  The  darkness  seemed  grad- 
ually illumined  by  a  sinister  light;  and  again  I  saw 
the  same  strange,  sad  face,  whose  quiet  eyes  seemed  riv- 
eted to  mine.  Again  I  heard  the  same  voice,  laden  will) 
the  same  sorrow,  whisper  in  my  ears,  the  same  fatal  and 
solemn  words,  "  You  have  destroyed  me,  my  child,  but  re- 
member that  I  love  and  that  I  forgive  you.'''' 

Valentine  [Aside.]    Year  after  year,  always  tlie  sume  ! 

Adrienne  Whether  I  again  slept  I  cannot  tell ;  but  I 
know  that  when  the  light  of  day  stole  into  the  room, 
and  I  heard  the  song  of  the  birds  outside,  I  asked  my- 
self if  indeed  I  was  wholly  sane. 

Valentine  What  an  idea  ! 

Adrienne  [Shaking  her  head.]  I  don't  know.  You 
knoAV  when  I  was  ver}'-  young  liow,  after  a  long  illness, 
I  entirely  lost  my  memory  ;  and  when  I  recovered  I 
could  not  recognize  my  own  father  noi-  my  mother — 
only  O'Rourke,  whose  face  I  at   once  remembered  as 


92  A   CELEBBATED    CASB. 

that  of  an  old  friend.  The  return  of  these  visions  that 
will  not  leave  me  makes  me  so  sad — so  sad. 

Valentine  Have  you  told  your  mother  ? 

Adrienne  Once  I  tried.  But  at  my  very  first  sentence 
she  was  so  agitated,  so  troubled,  so  frightened,  that  I 
determined  never  to  broach  the  subject  to  her  again. 
Oh,  Valentine,  if  you  were  only  with  me,  if  you  could 
but  remain ! 

Valentine  I  will  remain. 

Adrienne  But  how  ? 

Valentine  I'll  arrange  it  with  the  Chanoinesse.  Here 
she  comes  for  me,  accompanied  by  that  young  gentle- 
man. 

Chcm  [jEnterinffj  l.  3  e.]  Come,  Mademoiselle,  receive 
the  adieux  of  M.  Raoul.  He  is  going  back  to  the  army, 
satisfied  that  the  wisest  thing  he  can  do  is  to  get  him- 
self shot.     Oh,  he  has  strong  reasons. 

Valentine  What  reasons  ? 

Chan  He  loves  a  young  lady. 

Adrienne  Ah  ! 

Chan  And  she  does  not  love  him. 

Adrienne  [ImjmlsivelT/.l  Oh,  but  she  does.  [Catches 
herself,  looks  down  ashamed.'\     Ah  ! 

Chan.  {Laughing.)  Well,  Raoul,  was  I  right  ?  It 
only  remains  for  me  to  settle  the  matter. 

Adrienne.  Oh,  JMadame  !   Madame ! 

Chan.  I  understand  it,  dear.  He's  so  like  his  father 
— no  one  could  help  loving  him. 

Maoul.  But,  god-mother,  the  obstacles  between  us  ! 

Chan.  (yIs  Duke  «?«c?  Duchess  ew^fr.)  The  obstacles? 
Here  they  are.  I'll  make  short  work  of  them,  my  dear. 
Will  your  Graces  vouchsafe  me  a  hearing  and  advice  od 
a  most  important  matter  ? 

Duke — Duchess.   Certainly.     {They  both  sit  doicn. 

Maoid  {Aside.)     I  feel  like  running  away ! 

Adrienne.   {Aside.)     I'd  like  to  i-un. 

Valentine  ( To  Adrienne.)     Courage  ! 

Chan.  Raoul  is  in  love  with  a  young  lady  of  noble 
family.  Raoul  has  no  fortune.  I  have  been  through 
that  ordeal  myself,  and  know  bow  trying  it  is.  I  loved 
Raoul's  father,  a  poor  cadet.     The  fortune  of  our  house 


A    CELEBRATVn    CASE.  33 

was  settled  on  its  eldest  son  to  preserve  its  dignity. 
"We  loved  each  other,  but  they  married  him  to  a  rich 
heiress  who  sought  rank,  and  so,  Raoul,  I  became  your 
god-mother  instead  of  your  mother. 

Raoul  [Tenderly.)  I  love  you  as  much  as  if  you  were 
both  the  former  and  tlie  latter. 

Chan.  {Smiling.)  I  know  it;  but  I  would  hive  pre- 
ferred being  the  latter.  Now  my  brother  is  dead,  nnd 
the  fortune"  re  verts  to  me— two  hundred  thousand  livres 
income.     Take  it,  my  son,  for  it  is  yours. 

Duke  Raoul,  now  so  rich,  with  a  noble  name,  what  ob- 
stacle can  there  be  to  his  love?  Call  in  form  and  ask 
for  the  lady's  hand. 

Chan.   [To  Duchess.)  Is  that  your  advice? 

Duchess  Why  certainly.  Go  and  say,  Count  or  Mar- 
quis— 

Chan  Duke — it's  a  Duke. 

Duke  [Hesitating)  We — well,  i  Duke  and  Duchess,  I 
have  the  honor  to  ask  in  marriage  for  my  god-son  Raoul 
de  Langey — 

Duchess  The  hand   of  your  daughter.  Mademoiselle — 

Chan  Adrienne  d'Aubeterre. 

Duke  Eh?  what? 

Duchess.  Adrienne  ! 

Adrienne  [Aside  to  Valkntine)  Oh,  Valentine,  I'm 
sinking  ! 

Valentine  You'll  float  in  a  minute. 

Duke  So,  Raoul  de  Langey,  you  love  Mile.  Adrienne  ? 

Raoul  Yes. 

Duchess  And  you,  Adrienne  ? 

Adrienne  Mamma ! 

Duchess  I'm  only  sorry  you  did  not  give  us  oppor- 
tunity to  consent  before  you  had  enriched  your  god-son. 

Chan  Noble  words,  Madame.  [To  Duke  :)  Did  I  con- 
duct the  campaign  well.  General  ? 

Duke  Your  victoiy  is  your  answer.  We're  beaten, 
(holding  out  his  hand  to  Raoul,)  and  are  delighted  to  be. 

Sergeant  [Outside,  r.  3  E.J  I  must  see  the  General 
Miter  Joseph  ;    Sergeant.     Joseph  points  out  Raoul  (a 
Sergeant, 

Duke   What's  the  matter  ? 


84  A   CELEBRATED   CASE. 

Sergeant  Our  men  and  the  galley-slaves  are  lying  on 
the  road  oppressed  with  the  fearful  heat.  I  came  to 
ask  some  rest  for  our  soldiers  and  for — the  others. 

Chan  {looking  out)  Poor  fellows  !  Let  them  come  in 
under  the  trees.     It's  fearful ! 

DuJce  Give  up  my  park  to  a  lot  of  galley-slaves— 

Chan  They  are  men,  and  they  are  suffering.  Besides 
the  soldiers  are  entitled  to  consideration. 

Adrienne  Oh  please,  father,  do  let  them  come  in. 

Duke  Well,   well !  Raoul,  give  the  necessaiy  orders. 

\^Exit,  c.  L. 

CAa«  (!ro  Valentine.)  Here,  dear,  [gives  her  purse,)  1 
don't  know  what's  in  it,  but  it  annoys  me  to  have  it. 
Valentine  I  understand. 
Adrienne  A  purse  !     Ah,  I  have  also  mine. 

{The  Convicts  file  into  the  Park  with  their  Guard.  Some 
lie  down  under  the  trees,  some  by  the  railings,  others  go  to 
the  fountain,  a  small  group  stops  more  down  stage  on  the  r. 
Soldiers  stack  arms  except  two,  who  mount  guard.  Wliile 
this  is  going  on  the  Duchess  and  the  Chanoinesse  are 
on  the  terrace  with  Raoul,  looking  at  them  as  they  file  in. 

Valentine  {To  Adrienne)  Let's  haste  to  do  our  charity, 
Adrienne  Yes,  yes.       I   wish  the    whole  world  were 
as  happy  as  I  am  to-day. 

(Valentine  yoes  to  group  up  stage;  Adrienne  to  group  r. 

Galley  Slaves  {All  rising.)  Me,  me  !  Don't  forget  me. 
Miss. 

Sergeant.  Silence,  there  ! 

(Adrienne  stops  before  a  man  who  is  seated  on  rock  near 
fountain,  and  who  did  not  rise  but  seemed  indifferent  to 
what  was  passing. 

Adrienne  And  you,  poor  man,  won't  you  hold  out 
your  hand  like  the  rest  ? 

John  I  don't  need  anything,  {raising  his  head,)  thank 
you.  Miss. 


A   CELEBRATED   CASH.  3b 

Adrienne  {^Stifiing  a  scream)  Ah  !  \_^Drops  pume. 

Valentine  Adrieiine ! 

Adrienne  [To  Y XhKNTiJUE,  desiffnatinff  John)  It'.s  he, Val- 
entine, it's  he  ! 

Valentine  He ! 

Adrienne  He  whose  image  pursues  me  so. 

Cha7i.  What  ails  Adrienne  ? 

Duchess  The  sight  of  these  poor  men  lias  aftectecl 
her  too  much.     Come  ! 

(She  exits  -with  Duchess,  Valentine    leading  Aouien'ne 

away. 

Adrienne  [Going)  I  must — I  Avill  see  him  again. 
[Uxit  L.  3  E. 

John  Renaud,  seeing  AnrJEXNE's^«r«e,  which  she  dropped 
at  first  shock,  picks  it  up  and  makes  a  step  to  follow. 

John  [Calling)  Lady!  young  lady! 

Sergeant  Halt !  what  do  you  want  with  that  young 
lady? 

Joh7i  To  give  her  back  her  purse.     She  dropped  it. 

Sergeant  [Taking purse.]  Full  of  gold!  And  you  re- 
turn it  ?     You  must  be  a  converted  thief. 

John  [Simplg.]  I  never  was  a  thief. 

Sergeant  What  were  you,  then  ? 

John  A  soldier — like  you. 

Sergeant   \_Going   up   stage.'\  A    queer    convict,    that 
fellow. 
[Renaud  sits  down  in  his  old  ijlace  and  falls  into  a  reverie. 

Pause,  Adrienne  appears  suddenly,  followed  by  Valen- 
tine. 
Valentine  Adrienne — don't,  I  beg. 

Adrienne  [Much  agitated.]  I  tell   you  I  cannot  help  it. 
An  impulse   stronger  than   myself  pushes  me  towards 
this  man.     I  must  see  him,  hear  him,  or  I'll  go  mad. 
[Makes  a  few  steps  towards  John. 

Sergeant  [Coming  doion.]  Looking  for  your  purse, 
Miss  ?  Here  it  is.  That  man  found  it  and  gave  it  to 
me  to  return  it  to  you, 

A-drietme  [Agitated.]  It  is  he.     It  is,  it  is  ! 

Sergeant  Do  you  wish  to  reward  him  ? 


38  Jl  celebrated  case. 

Adrienne  [  Catching  at  excuse]  Yes  !  yes  !  May  I 
talk  to  him  ? 

Sergeant  Oh  yes,  Miss,  as  much  as  you  like.  He's 
harmless. 

[  Goes  up  stage  after  ordering  Convicts  up  stage. 

Adrienne  {Having  by  degrees  approached  John.  )  Sir 
— Sir,  a  while  ago  you  refused  to  accept  the  money  we 
offered ;  will  you  not  now  accept  something  ?    Do,  pray. 

John  Of  what  use  is  money  to  me — to  buy  whiter 
bread  ?  White  or  black,  the  bread  that  is  soaked  in 
tears  is  always  bitter. 

Adrienne  [  To  VAXENTmE.]  It  is  the  voice — the  very 
voice  ! 

Valentine  [  Puzzled?^  Can  it  be  ? 

John  \Kindly\  From  you,  however,  I  will  accept  a 
souvenir. 

Adrienne  [  Joyfully  hands  him  purse]  Ah  ! 

Joh}i  Not  all  that.  [Takes  out  a  louis.]  There. 
Keep  the  rest.  The  money  that  is  given  to  me  bi'ings 
me  no  good. 

Valentine  For  what  crime  were  you  condemned  ? 

John  [Bitterly]  What's  the  use  of  asking  me  that  ? 
[Pointing  to  the  other  convicts.]  Ask  those  men — they 
will  all  tell  you  I  am  innocent. 

Valentine  Indeed ! 

Adrienne  [  With  c(mvictio7i]  If  you  will  yourself  say  so 
I'll  believe  it. 

John  [  With  energy]  Then  I  swear  to  you  that  I  am  in- 
nocent. 

Adrienne  [Sa7ne  tone]  And  I  swear  to  you  that  I  be- 
lieve it. 

John  Heaven  reward  you  for  that  word,  young  lady ! 
[Touches  his  forehead  and  starts  to  go. 

Adrienne  [Quickly]  One  word  more.  I  want  to  know 
of  what  crime  you  were  ace — falsely  accused. 

John  1  was  falsely  accused  of  the  murder  of  my  own 
wife,  the  mother  of  my  own  child. 

Valentine  [Shuddering]  Oh,  it's  hoi  rible  ! 

Adrienne  [Draiuing  closer  to  John]  But  why  were  you 
not  executed  ? 


A    CELEBRATED    CASE.  37 

John  My  sentence  was  commuted  to  the  galleys  for 
life.  And  for  twelve  years,  chained  to  the  oar,  nailed  to 
a  seat,  or  dragging  a  chain  in  the  docks  of  Brest,  I  have 
had  but  one  thought,  felt  but  one  pang,  my  child! 
What  has  become  of  her — alone,  abandoned — dead  from 
want — what  !  what  ?  Or  does  she  share  willi  her  mother 
a  grave  nnsprinkled  by  any  human  tc^ars  ? 

Valentine  But  what  proofs  were  there  agahist  you  ? 

John  (To  Adrienxe)    Do  you  wish  to  hear  the  story  ? 

Adrienne  (^Her  eyes  fixed  on  him)  Yes.    Tell  it  to  me. 

John.  I  was  a  soldier.  The  night  before  Fontenoy  a 
dying  man  entrusted  me  with  family  papers  and  valu- 
able jewels.  He  gave  me  three  hundretl  louis  for  my- 
self. Being  near  my  home,  I  absented  myself  for  three 
hours  and  gave  those  to  my  wife,  whom  I  had  not  seen 
for  two  months,  for  safe-keeping  in  case  I  fell  in  the 
next  day's  battle.  I  returned  in  time  to  the  camp.  The 
day  after  the  battle  I  was  arrested  for  the  murder  of 
my  wife,  who  must  have  been  assassinated  after  I  left. 
My  daughter,  aged  only  five  years,  said  I  was  there  that 
night. 

Valentine  And  could  nothing  justify  you? 

John  Nothing.     The  deposit  I  had  made  to  my  wife 
was  gone  ;  and  they  said  that  in  a  jealous  rage  I  had 
gone  there  and  killed  ray  poor  Madeline. 
Adrienne  [Siuldenhj)  Madeline  !     Madeline  ! 

Valentine  What's  the  matter  ? 

Adrienne  I  don't  know,  bat  the  name  thrilled  my 
heart.     (Tb  Joiix:)  Say  it — speak  it  again,  will  you? 

John  I  have  no  reason  to  shrink  from  pronouncing  the 
name  of  my  good,  dear  Madeline. 

Adrienne  (Suddenli/,  qmckhj,  and  joining  her  hands  like  a 
child  praying)  Holy  JMary  Madeline,  my  mother's  patron 
saint,  pray  for  her  and  for —  What  am  I  saying  ?  Am 
I  going  mad  ? 

Valentine  (  Frightened)  Adrienne  ! 

John  [Quickly)  Who  taught  you  that  prayer? 

Adrienne  I  don't  know.     But  go  on — go  on. 

John  Well,  they  brought  my  child,  my  own  child,  be- 
fore the  tribunal,  and  on  her  testimony  they  convicted 
me. 


38  A    CELEBRATED    CASE. 

Adrunne  [Almost  breathless)  And  then  what  did  you 
gay  to  her  ?     When  you  left  lier — yes — yes. 

John  Wait — wait.  Ah  !  Let  my  List  words  re- 
main graven  in  your  memory. 

Adrienne  [To  herself)  In  your  memory — yes! 

John  "  You  have  killed  me,  my  poor  child." 

Adrienne  [As  before)  Yes,  yes !  That's  it — "  You  have 
killed  me  ;"  yes. 

John  "  But  I  "— 

Adrienne  [  With  positive  energy)  " — Love  and  I  forgive 
you." 

John  You  have  known  my  child.  She  alone  ever 
heard  those  words. 

Adrienne  [Hesitatinff]  No — no  one  else  ever  told  me 
those  words.  I  remember  them  ;  that  is  all.  I 
remember  your  voice.  I  remember  your  features — now  as 
I  remember  your  last  words. 

Jbh7i  [With force.]  You  remember  !  But  how  ?  It  is 
impossible ! 

Valentine  Why  certainly  it  is,  Adrienne  ! 

Adrienne  I  don't  know  "how."  I  know  I  have  a 
father  and  a  mother,  whom  I  love,  adore.  Yet  I  know 
I  remember  you.  I  know  that  those  heartrending 
words  were  spoken  to  me  by  you. 

John  Spoken  by  me  to  i/on  ? 

[O'RouRKE  cojnes,  as  if  looking  for  Adrie^jjtl.      John  sees 
him,  recog?iizes  him.] 

O'Rourke  !     Tis  he — near  her  !     O'Rourke  ! 

[  O'Hourke  goes  up  to  John. 

G'Rowhe  John  Reuaud  ! 

John  \Takes  O'Rourke  hy  xorist  vnth  left  Juind^ 
points  Kpicard  with  his  right.]  Before  the  God  that 
hears  and  sees  us  both,  tell  me  what  you  did  with  my 
child  ? 

O'Roiir'ke  Your — your  child  ? 

Jolin  O'Rourke  !     Before  God  ! 

0''Jiourke  [Looking  at  Adrienne.]  I  made  her  the 
adopted  daughter  of  the  Duke  and  Duchess  d'Aubeterre. 

John  [fStagg^ring  as  if  about  to  fall.]  My  child! 
[Weeps.]     She — she  ia  my  daughter. 


A   CELEBKATED    CASE.  39 

Adrienne  \^Falling  on  her  knees  and  kissing  John's  hands^ 
ivhile  ihe  cries  over  them.~\  Father !  My  poor  innocent 
father  !     And  it  was  I — 1  who  convicted  him  !     [Cms, 

John    And  it   is    my    daughter — so    beautiful — so — 

[  Opens  his  arms. 

Adrienne  \^Her  head  on  his  shoulder^   0  father — father ! 
[Pause. 

John  [Gently  disengages  himself '\  But  I  must  not  hold 
you  to  my  heart. 

uidrienne  Why  not  ? 

John  It  seems  a  sacrilege  to  touch  you  with  these 
convict's  clothes — an  outrage  to  purity — to— this  shame- 
ful chain  ! 

Adrienne  It  Avas  I  put  them  on  you.  I  riveted  those 
chains — I.      And    I    am    not    worthy    to    touch    thee. 

[  Weeps. 
CRourke  [Looking  at  her']    Poor  child  !     I  had  made 
her  so  happy. 

John  I  understand.  I  should  have  suffered  on  to  the 
end,  and  not  have  recognized  her,  but  man — man — I — 

G^Rourke  [Pressing  his  hand\  You  couldn't  help  it.  I 
know — don't  I  know  your  heart  ?  It's  only  naythur  ! 
John. 

Adrienne  Father,  there  must  be  some  clue  to  your  in- 
nocence. If  it  be  but  fine  as  a  spider's  web,  my  eyes  will 
see  it,  my  devotion  will  find  it. 

Valentine  We'll  seek  it  together,  sister. 

e/o/m  [Slowlg.]  Oh,  I've  thought  and  thought  ;  but  I 
can  see  only  the  one  chance. 

Valentine  [Eagerly.']  What  is  it  ? 

Adrienne  Go  on,  father. 

John  The  jewels  and  papers  of  the  Count  de  Momay 
which  the  rtal  assassin  must  have  stolen,  were  placed  in 
a  box  of  my  wife's,  in  which  was  the  only  jewel  we  had — 
a  necklace,  given  her  on  our  wedding-day  by  the  then 
Countess  Aubeterre.  If  that  necklace  could  be  traced — 
or  if  the  Count  de  Mornay  had  survived — 

Valentine  Describe  the  necklace. 

John  It  was  made  of  emeralds,  sapphires,  and  rubies, 
and  from  the  clasp  there  hung  a  locket  on  which  were 


40  A    CELEBHATED    CASE. 

set  three  diamonds.  Through  that  the  real  assassin 
might  be  traced  ;  or  if  the  Count  de  Mornay  still  exi.sts, 
which  I  cuiMot  tell, for  we  are  permitted  no  news,  you 
know — and — [sif/hs] — and  it  is  twelve  years  ago. 

Adrienne  If  M.  de  Mornay  still  exists,  we'll  find  him. 

O^Ronrke  As  sure  as  ivir  a  badger  found  a  rabbit ! 
\^Druiyi-call. 

Sergeant  [Co7mnr/  in,  to  Convicts]  Come,  get  up  there  ! 

Adrie7ine  Must  he  go  ? 

O^Rourke  Yis,  darlint ;  he  must  obey. 

Join    [/n   whisper,  looking  round  him.]     Farewell,  my 
cliild,  farewell  ! 

Adrienne     No,  only  good-by  for  a  little  while,  I  hope, 
father  ! 

John  My  child  !  * 

0''Rourke  \^Shyhj]  Keep  dark. 

Johjt  Yes,  yes.     None  of  my  shame  shall  shadow  her 
life — none  !    I'll  be  careful — careful.  [As  they  exit. 


CURTAIN. 


ACT   11. 


Salon  in  the  Chateau  dWubeterre,  the  owner  of  which  is  a 
Duke.  Entrances,  r.,  l.,  and  c.  At  rise  of  curtain,  Val- 
entine and  Adrienne  enter,  r.  2  e.,  the  former  trying 
to  soothe  the  latter. 

Valentine  You  must  calm  yourself,  dear. 

Adrienne  How  can  I  ?  I  who  condemned  liim.  He  so 
good,  so  kind.  Did  you  see  how  his  eyes  filled  with 
tears  of  love  when  he  knew  me  ?  I  who  jilr.cod  tliat 
chain  on — on —     I — 

Valentine  If  he  were  here,  he  would  fn]l)i;l  yoni* 
accusing  yourself — 


A    CELEBRATED    CASE.  41 

Enter  O'RouRKE,  R. 

O'^Rourhe  That's  just  what  he's  a-doin'  this  instant 
through  my  lips,  acushla. 

A  dritnne  ^ V  h  at  ? 

0''Roa>kt  I  saw  him  agin  foreninst  the  cheerch.  "  Hivin 
is  hard  on  ye,  John,"  SMys  I.  "No,"  says  he,  "no.  By 
lettin'  me  see  my  poor  child  safe  and  happy,  it  has  repaid 
me  for  the  twelve  years  of  man's  injustice."  It  took  the 
thorn  out  of  his  heart  to  see  you,  avourneen.  "Tell  her," 
he  said,  "  tell  her  not  to  accuse  lierself.  It's  the  fault  of 
the  law  " — and  so  it  is,  and  I  always  said,  Bad  cess  to  the 
laAV  !  a  law  that  turns  a  man's  own  flesh  and  blood  into 
a  witness  agin  himself.  Why,  the  haythens  wouldn't 
have  such  a  h-r.v —     The  Duchess  ! 

Valentine  Your  mother ! 

Adrienne  [Aside.)  I  can  no  longer  call  her  that. 

Duchess  [Entering,  l,  h.)  I  was  looking  for  you  both. 
You  know  to-morrow  we  expect  M.  de  Choiseuil — 
But  what  ails  you,  Adrienne  ? 

Adnenne  Me? 

Duchess  Yes.     You've  been  crying.      What  for? 

Adrienne  What  for? 

Duchess  Come,  my  daughter,  tell  me. 

Adrienne  Yes,  yes,  I  will  tell  you,  Mada — Mother. 
Will  you  not  leave  us  together  ? 

Duchess  It  must  be  something  very  serious. 

Adrie7ine  Very  serious  and  very^  sad. 

Valentine  {Kissing  Adrienne.)  Courage. 

[Exit,  r.  2  E. 

ORourke  Riraim-ber,  dear,  you're  a  soldier's  daughter, 
and  Sergeant  O'Kourke  will  always  be  nayre  you. 

\^Exeunt  0''KouRKii  following  Valentine,  r.  2  e. 

Duchess  Come,  now  we  are  alone.  Sit  here  by  my 
side,  and  tell  me  what  ails  my  child. 

Adrienne   (Kneeling  before  the  DucHiss.)  By  your  side  ! 

Duchess  Why,  child,  what  are  you  doing? 

Adrienne  Yes,  yes !  let  me  here  recall  all  your  tender- 
ness, all  your  goodness — your  tears  when  I  sufiered; 
your  joy  when  I  was  joyful.  What  is  a  mother  that  you 
have  not  been  to  me — nurse,  protectress,  teacher — all ! 


42  A  CELEBRATED  CASE. 

Duchess  (Quick! I/.)  What  do  you  mean? 

Adrienne  I  mean  that  I  know  you  are  not  my  mother. 

Duchess  What  matters  it  ?  When  O'Rourke  placed 
you,  a  weak,  puny,  dying  child  in  my  arms,  I  accepted 
you  as  one  sent  by  Heaven  to  replace  the  one  it  had 
taken  from  me.  After  your  long,  long  illness,  when 
reason  returned,  was  not  your  first  word  addressed  to 
me,  and  was  not  that  word  Mamma !  Ask  your  own 
lieait  if  it  loves  me  any  less  since  the  wicked  have  re- 
vealed the  fatal  truth  to  you  ? 

Adrienne  Oh  no,  no  ! 

Duchess  Does  not  my  fear  to  lose  you  find  an  echo 
in  your  own  soul  ?     And  if  I  were  to  die — 

Adrienne  I  think  I  should  die  too. 

Duchess  You  see  you  are  my  daughter. 

Adriemie  {Firmly.)  But  my  father- — my  true  father — 
lie  is  alive. 

Duchess  (Rises,  much  agitated.)  Your  father ! 

Adrienne  {Still  more  firmly.)  I  owe  him  my  whole  life. 
To  him  I  am  bound  by  a  solemn  duty — 

Duchess  He  is  living ! 

Adrienne  That  is  Avhy — {corrects  herself) — Madame — 

Duchess  {Much  pained)  Madame  ! 

Adrienne  Why,  I  must  part  from  you. 

Duchess  Part  from  me?  {Takes  her  in  her  arms.)  Never, 
never ! 

Enter  Raoul,  Duke,  and  O'Rourke,  r.,  followed  by  two 
Servants  carrying  caskets,  fiowers,  and  large  basket.  Ser- 
vants exit,  E. 

Adrienne  {Aside.)  Raoul !    I  had  forgotten  him.    Alas  ! 

Duke  Tears !  Hang  it  !  a  w^edding  is  not  a  funeral. 
See  here !  Raoul  and  I  have  emptied  half  the  shops  in 
Toulcn. 

Raoul  {Approaching  Adrienne.)  I  couldn't  find  any- 
thing half  beautiful  enough  for  you. 

Adrienne  Yes.  These  presents  are  worthy  the  daughter 
of  the  Duke  and  Duchess  d'Aubeterre  ;  but  I  cannot 
accept  fiiem.     I  have  not  the  right. 

Di  '"    Adrienne  ! 


A    CELEBRATED    CASE.  43 

0''Rour1ce  Don't,  aciishla — don't  say  that. 

Adrieiine  Kaoul,  I  did  not  know  it ;  but  I  am  harbored 
here  only  from  a  loving  kindness  I  can  never  repay.  I 
am  not  the  daughter  of — 

Raoul  I  knew  it. 

Duke  I  thought  it  but  right  he  should  know  it.  And 
1  was  certain  it  would  not  change  his  sentiments. 

Maoul  My  love! 

Duke  She  came  to  us  an  orphan,  we  received  and 
adopted  her  ;  and  to-day  bli(j  is,  in  the  eyes  of  the  law 
and  of  all,  la  demoiselle  cVAuheterre! 

Adrienne  She  can  remain  such  no  longer,  for  she  was 
not  wholly  an  orphan.    My  father  lives  ;  I  have  seen  him, 

Duke  {To  O'Koukke)  Did  you  not,  when  you  brought 
her  here  in  your  arms,  say  that  she  was  alone  in  the 
world,  and  that  no  one  could  ever  claim  her? 

O'Rourke  {Doggedly)  And  no  one  does  claim  her. 

Duke  But  she  says  she  has  met  her  father. 

Oi'Rourke.  {Still  docfgedly)  Well,  a  f oiner  man  or  bitter 
soldier  never  bent  shoe-leather.  You  know  him — John 
Renaud. 

Duke  John  Renaud,  the  assassin — 

Duchess  — Of  Madeline,  my  poor  foster-sister  ! 

Adrleime  No,  no.  ]My  father  never  did  commit  that 
crime. 

O'Rourke  It's  the  truth  she's  spakin'.  There  nivir 
was  any  proof  agin  him — 

Adrienne  — But  that  of  a  child  whom  they  forced  to 
testify.     That  child  was  I. 

Duke  {Aside)  She  that— his  child!  {To  O'Rourke:) 
Explain  this. 

O'Rourke  In  coorse  I  will,  Duke.  After  John  was 
sintinced  I  was  sint  away  on  duty.  The  poor  babby 
was  left  in  the  great  big  coort  by  herself,  because 
Martha  was  at  the  ambulance  with  little  Jimmy,  who 
had  a  ball  in  his  shoulder. 

Duchess  Poor  child ! 

O'Rourke  Ye  may  well  say  that,  for  she  hadn't  a  soul 
in  the  world  she  could  belong  to.  Well,  next  day,  in 
celebration  of  the  great  victory,  there  was  high  mass  and 


44  A    CELEBRATED    CASE. 

a  Tay  Day-hum,  Wlien  all  was  silent,  and  his  rivirence— 
glory  be  to  his  soul ! — had  rayched  theayhiy-vay-shun,  a 
child's  cry  was  hird;  and  the  colleen,  no  bigger  nor 
that,  went  toddling  up  the  cintre  aisle.  Some  wanted  to 
stop  the  craythur,  out  of  rispict  for  the  sarvice,  but 
his  rivirence  knew  the  child,  and  said,  -  Let  her  come 
home.  For  this  is  the  house  of  Him  Avho  said,  '  Suffer 
little  children  to  come  unto  me,  and  forbid  them  not.'" 
Half  the  brigade  was  there,  Juke  ;  and — and  they — the 
divils — did  what  I  am  doing  now.  [  Wipes  hia  eyes. 

Duchess  (Folding  AvKiEi^i'iE  in  her  arms)  My  poor,  poor 
child ! 

Duke  Go  on,  O'Rourke.  You  needn't  be  ashamed  of 
your  tears. 

O^Rourke  I'd  be  ashamed  of  myself  if  I  was.  Next 
day  I  got  a  furlough  from  your  Grace,  and  I  went  and 
took  my  old  comrade's  child  from  the  poor  man  in  the 
sacristy.  It  was  the  black  fayvor  was  upon  her  ;  but  I 
got  her  as  far  as  the  gate  of  the  park  yonder,  for  I  was 
a-makin'  of  my  way  to  Toulon,  thinking  John  was  there. 
But  I  heard  lie  was  at  Brest.  Jist  then  the  Duchess 
cum  out  in  her  carriage,  spoke  to  me,  and  you  know  the 
rist.  She  took  her  from  me  arms  to  her  own.  I 
thought  it  but  fair,  share,  that  the  man  who  condimned 
the  father  should  feed  the  child. 

Duke  But  why  did  you  not  tell  up  Avhose  child  she 
was  ? 

O^Rourke  I  didn't  want  her  to  be  trated  as  the  child 
of  an  assassin,  when  I  knew  her  father  was  an  innocent 
man. 

Duke  How  do  you  know  that  ? 

O^Rourke  Will  yoa  till  me  wan  thing? 

Duke  What? 

O^Rourke  Why  did  they  comm-yute  his  sintenco  ? 

Duke  Because  of  his  hf  roic  action  the  day  before  at 
Fontenoy. 

0''Rourke  Indayd  !  And  a  wise  man  like  you  thinks 
a  coward  can  kill  a  woman  one  night,  and  be  a  hayro 
on  the  battle-field  nixt  morning.  I'll  believe  that  when 
I  see  paving-shtoues  boiled  into  maily  potatoes. 


A    CELEBRATED    CASE.  45 

Adriennc  [  Who  through  all  this  has  been  eagerly  watching 
O'RouRKE,  throws  herself  into  his  a7'ms.]  God  bless  your 
honest  heart !  I've  never  loved  you  half  as  much  as  I 
ought. 

0''Rourkc  Now,  then,  cumfirt  yourself,  acushla,  do. 
There,  there. 

Adriemie  You'll  not  leave  me  ? 

O'Rourke  I  couldn't,  darlint.  An  O'Rourke  could 
nayvir  layve  a  vvoman  in  trouble. 

Raoul  Nor  will  I,  Adrieime.  The  faith  I  pledged  to 
you  I  will  keep.  The  word  I  gave  I  give  again.  And 
be  it  soon  or  be  it  late,  till  the  hour  you  come  and  say, 
"Raoul,  here's  my  hand,"  I  will  wait  for  it,  in  faith  and 
honor. 

G^RourTce  The  rayle  gintleman  and  the  thrue  man 
always  slipake  the  same  sintiraents,  it's  only  the  lan- 
guage differs. 

Adriemie  [To  Raoul.]  I  should  have  been  so  happy  ! 
But  Heaven  has  given  me  a  different  task  ;  and  I  must 
bid  you  an  eternal  farewell. 

Duke  Farewell  ! 

Duchess  No  ;  no,  no  ! 

Raoul  Adrienne  ! 

[Adrienne  turtis  to  go,  stops  at  the  baskets,  takes  out  a  bou 
quet,  'presses  it  to  her  lips,  weeping.     Pause. 

Entiv  Joseph,  c.  l. 

Duke  What  now  ? 

Joseph  Will  your  Grace  receive  the  Count  de  Mornay  ? 

Adrienne  [  Vehemently^  The  Count  de  Mornay  ! 

All  The  Count  de  Mornay  ! 

Dukp.  [Moved)  Are  you  sure  that's  the  name  ? 

Joseph  Yes,  your  Grace. 

Adrienne  {Half  crazed)  That's  the  name  ;  the  very 
name  my  father  mentioned.  "  He  may  still  live,"  he 
said,  "and  he  could  justify  me."      It  must  be  he,  Duke. 

Diike  Twelve  years  ago  there  remained  but  two  of  the 
family  bearing  that  name.  One,  an  old  man  in  exile  ; 
the  other  his  son,  who,  it  is  said,  was  killed  at  Fontenov. 

Adrienne  Heaven  would  not  let  him  die.  He  live^, 
'Tis  he— 'tis  he,  Duke  ! 


46  A    CELEBRATED    CASE. 

Dulce  [To  Joseph)  Tell  the  gentleman  I  will  see  him. 

[Exit  JOSEI'H. 

Adrienne.  The  Count  de  Mornay  ?  It  is  salvation— 
my  father's  redemption  and  my  own.  Do  you  hear, 
Duke?  Raoul,  do  you  hear?  and  you,  mother — mother  ! 

(Kneels  before  Duchess,  whose  hands  she  covers  with  x>cission- 
ate  kisses. 

Duke  Calm  yourself,  Adrienne,  calm  yourself;  and 
let  me  interrogate  the  gentleman. 

Adrienne  Never  fear,  sir.  I'll  not  say  a  word,  not 
one.  {Rising.)  I'll  wait,  I  know  he  will  justify  my 
father.     I'll  wait  patiently. 

Enter  Joseph,  c.  l. 

Joseph  The  Count  de  Mornay  ! 

Enter  Lazare,  o.  l. 

Lazare  I  trust  your  Grace  will  excuse  my  calling  on 
one  with  whom  I  have  not  yet  the  honor  to  be  acquaint- 
ed, when  I  inform  you  of  the  Aery  powerful  reaso..o 
that  make  it  a  duty. 

Duke  [Semi-qitestion.)  You  are  the  Count  deM>...iay  .' 

Lazare  At  your  Grace's  service. 

Duke  A  native  of  Provence  ? 

Lazare  And  the  sole  survivor  of  that  unfortunate 
family  whom  the  rigors  of  the  Ancien  Regime  forced 
into  exile. 

Adrienne  [Aside  to  Duchess.)     'Tis  he  !  'tis  he  ! 

Lazare  The  reversal  of  the  decree  by  his  jMaj'^^ty 
Louis  XV.  brings  me  here,  and  will  cause  me  to  c;.ll 
again  on  your  Grace  in  your  quality  of  Governor-Gene- 
ral of  this  Province,  that  I  may  be  reinstated  by  you 
into  the  titles  and  demesnes  of  our  house. 

Duke  To-morrow  Ave  expect  the  Duke  de  Choiseuil, 
his  Majesty's  Minister,  to  honor  us  Avith  a  visit  on  his 
way  to  Toulon:  and  I  shall  lay  your  request  before 
him. 

Lazare  I  expect  no  less  from  your  known  justice  and 
courtesy  ;  but  of  matters  of  business  there  Avill  be  time 
enough  to  talk.  It  is  a  dearer  and  more  sacred  mo'ivo 
that  brings  me  to  your  Grace's  house  to-dav. 


A    CELEBRATED    CASE.  41 

Adrienne  (Aside.)     Ah  ! 

Duke  Indeed,  sir? 

Lazare  When  I  quitted  France,  I  left  for  safety  and 
education  my  on^y  child,  a  daughter  aged  only  five 
years,  at  the  college  of  Iljau-es,  in  charge  of  the  Chanoi- 
nesse. 

Adrienne  {Eagerly.)  And  her  name  is  Yaleiitine — is  it 
not? 

Lazare  {^Looking  attentively  at  Aduiekxk.)  Yes;  as  soon  as 
I  landed  in  France  I  wrote  to  have  her  sent  to  nie,  but 
heard  in  reply  that  she  and  Madame  la  Chanoinesse 
were  at  the  Chateau  d'Aubeterre.  [Taking  Adiuenne  Ijy 
the  hand  :)  Can  it  be  you  ? 

Adrienne  I — 1  am — 

Duke  [Rising,  quickly.)    Our  adopted  daughter. 

Duchess  [Rising,  j^;06*j<u'e/y.)  My  daughter — yes,  my 
daughter. 

Lazare  I  beg  your  pardon —     But  Valentine — 

Duke  You  shall  see  her  in  an  instant,  sir.    O'Rourke  ! 
(Lazare  looks  at  O'Rourke  ;  O'Rourke  looks  at  him. 

0''Rourke  Yiss,  yer  Grace  ? 

Duke  Request  Miss  Valentine  to  please  come  to  me. 

O'Rourke  Yiss,  your  Grace.  {Aside-^  I  don't  like  the 
look  of  that  iillar's  physiognomy.  [Exit,  r.  2  e. 

Duchess  To  Lazare.]  Had  you  arrived  but  a  couple  of 
hours  sooner  you  would  have  had  an  opportunity  to 
thank  the  good  Chanoinesse  for  her  gi-eat  love  to  Valen- 
tine.    She  left  here  but  this  morning. 

Adrienne  [Aside.']    Valentine's  father  !  and  it  is  in  his 
hands  that  lies  my  father's  fate — and  my  own. 
Enter  O'Rourke,  r,  2.  e.,  announcing : 

Hayre's  the  young  lady. 

Enter  Vaj.entine,  r.  2.  e. 

Valentine  Was  it  your  Grace  sent  ? 

Duke  Yes,  my  dear;  you  can  now  thank  Heaven  foi 
granting  your  so  frequent  prayer. 

Valentine  [Looking  at  Lazare.)  But — that  prayer  to 
Heaven  was  that  it  would  lend  me  my — 

Dake  Your  proscribed  father.    Well,  there  he  is. 


48  A    CELEBRATED    CASE. 

Valentine  My  father  !  I  had  so  long  prayed  to  knoT, 
him ! 

Lazare  Your  piayer  is  granted,  and  we'll  never  more 
be  separated. 

Adrienne  But,  Valentine,  think,  think  !  If  he 
brings  yon  liappiness,  what  is  it  he  brings  to  me  ? 
Your  father  is  called  the  Count  de  Mornay. 

Valentine    Tlie  Count  de  jNIornay  ! 

0''Rourkc  [Slowli/\  Yiss,  the  Count  de  Mornay  ! 

Lazare  [To  AdrienneJ  Certainly  ;  l)ut  lam  at  a  loss  to 
divine  how  that  name  can  have  interest  for  you. 

Adrienne  Oh,  you  will  know  soon,  sir. 

Duke  When  you  left  France,  twelve  years  ago. 
Count,  after  sending  youi  daughter  to  the  College  of 
Hyeres,  did  you  not  proceed  to  Flanders  ? 

Lazare  Certainly.  I  sought  an  exile's  refuge  through 
that  road,  then  ravaged  by  that  fearful  war. 

Adrienne  Were  you  not  one  night  seriously  wounded 
near  the  high-road  ? 

Lazare  yAHton'sli.ed.~\  Severely  wounded  !  Yes,  yes>  I 
certainly  was.     \^Amle  :\   What  are  they  after  ? 

Adrienne  A  soldier,  attracted  by  your  groans,  camfe  to 
your  rescue  ? 

Lazare  [IIesitatinr/.'\  A — a  soldier  ? 

Adrienne  [In  strong  emotion.^  Recall  the  night.  You 
were  dying.  He  came  to  your  aid.  You  contided  to 
him  your  name,  your  gold,  jewels,  and  family  papers. 

Lazare  [Aside.^    Hm  !  I  see,  I  see. 

Adrienne  {Eagerly)  Well,  sir,  Avell  ? 

Lazare  {Slowly,  as  if  to  gain  time.)  I  really  do  not  see 
wliat  interest  the  adventure  can  have  for  his  Grace  the 
Duke,  or  for  a  3'oung  lady  like  yourself,  who  must  have 
been  a  mere  infant  at  the  time.  There  is  no  reason 
now  to  make  any  mystery  about  it. 

Valentine  Speak,  father. 

Lazare  You  are  right:  a  soldier  did  come  to  my 
aid,  and  I  confided  to  him  my  name,  and  the  residence 
of  my  exiled  father,  to  whom  lie  promised  to  forward 
the  news  of  my  death,  for  of  course  I  never  expected  to 
survive. 


A    CELEBKATEU    CASE.  49 

Adrienne  And  you  gave  to  his  keeping  your  jewels 
and  papers  ? 

Lazare  {Ironically  laughinfj)   Oh  no,  no  ! 

Adrienne  How,  no  ? 

Lazare  [Quietly)  No.  Proscribed  Ly  Franco,  tlie 
enemy  of  England,  seeking  passage  througli  the  armies 
of  both  in  order  to  reach  an  exiled  father,  I  should  Iiave 
been  a  fool  to  carry  on  my  person  jewels  or  family 
papers.  We  had  safer  means  than  that.  If  we  had  not 
had,  I  should  not  now  have  my  family's  litle-deeds  of 
all  its  property,  my  own  passports,  my  father's,  my 
jewels,  all  here,  to  establish  at  once  my  claims  and  my 
identity,  as  well  {to  Valentine)  as  yours,  my  child. 

Adrienne  [Despairinyly)  Nevertheless,  there  is  a  man 
who  says — who  swears — 

Lazare  [As  if  astonished)  Says — swears!  [As  if  suddenly 
recalling  some  forgotten  fact :)  Oh,  I  understand.  Yes, 
yes.  Oh,  I  heard  of  that  celebrated  case  of  the  soldier 
who  assassinated  his  wife,  and  was  convicted  on  the  tes- 
timony of  his  own  child.  It  reached  me  even  in  my  ex- 
ile. Yes,  yes,  I  recollect ;  he  built  up  some  defence  in 
my  name.  Probably  he  was  the  soldier  who  did  succor 
me,  and  that  fact  suggested  to  him  the  defence  he 
offered.  But  the  man  was  guilty.  He  doixbtless  killed 
his  wife. 

Adrienne  [  Who  had  been  listening  to  him  ivith  her  whole 
soul.)  He  !  he  !    It's  all  over  now  ! 

\^Falls  in  a  faint;  all  surround  her. 

Valentine  Adrienne  !  Adrienne ! 

Oi'Rourke  [To  Lazare)  And  you,  sir,  have  killed  his 
daughter. 

Lazare  His  daughter  ! 


CURTAIN. 


60  A    CELEBRATED    CASE. 


ACT     III. 

Same  set  as  last  act.  At  rise  of  curtain,  Lazare  is  dis- 
covered sitting  at  a  table,  L.  c,  an  lohich  is  2>laced  a  large 
strong-box,  which  is  open  and  full  of  jewels,  laces,  etc. 

Lazare  {Sola s)  So  I  find  that  child  here!  She  whose 
infant  screams  I  have  since  so  often  seemed  to  hear,  recalHng 
the  image  of  her  pale,  blood-stained  mother.  Pshaw  !  (Pause.) 
By  heavens!  when  she  implored  me  so  to  clear  her  father, 
a  vertigo  seemed  to  seize  me.  I  came  near  betraying  my- 
self. (Rises,  uKilks  thoughtfully  up  and  down  the  room.) 
Pshaw  !  Pm  safe  ;  there  is  no  going  behind  those  (joointing 
to  strong-box)  proofs.  For  twelve  3'ears,  in  prison  or  out  of 
ppison,  rich  or  poor,  hun<xry  or  well  fed,  I  have  never  lost 
sight  of  these  proofs.  I  will  now  liave  the  reward  of  my 
patience  and  long-suffering.  There  is  not  a  De  Mornay 
left.  Nothing  risk,  nothing  win.  If  I  win,  I  am  a 
Seigneur,  bearer  of  a  historic  name,  and  peer  of  France.  T 
will  wait  and  see  this  Minister  Choiseuil. 

(Strikes    on    gong-bell.      Enter  Julia,  lady's  maid,  from 

D.  R.  2   E. 

Lazare  (l.  c.)  Has  Mile.  Mornay  finished  her  toilette  ? 

Julia  (r.  c.)  Yes,  sir ;  she  is  ready  to  start  whenever  you 
wish. 

Lazare  Tell  her  I  wish  to  see  her  (Exit  Julia  r.  2  e.) 
She  must  assist  at  this  reception  this  evening ;  for,  after  all, 
it  is  through  her  mother  the  greater  number  of  these  valu- 
able titles  came  into  the  family,  and  they  establish  her 
rights  far  more  than  mine. 

Enter  Valentine  at  door  r.  2  e. 

Valentine  (b.  c.)  You  sent  for  me,  father  ? 
Lazare  I  wished   to  see  you  dressed  as  befits  your  rant 
You  look  beautiful. 
Valentine  Father  1 


A   CELEBRATED   CASE.  51 

Lazare  But  why  are  you  so  sad  ? 

Valentine  I  can't  help  it,  father;  my  heart  bleeds  for 
poor  Adrienne. 

Lazare  That  girl's  name  again  ? 

Vcdentine  I  saw  her  lying  at  my  feet  so  pale,  so  cold, 
and  you  would  not  let  ine  remain  with  her,  who  has  been  a 
sister  to  me  so  njany  years. 

Lazare  It  is  not  fitting  that  my  daughter  should  thus 
treat  as  an  equal,  as  a  sister,  the  daughter  of — 

Valentine  [Quicklu)  If  her  father  be  guilty,  which  I 
suppose  he  must  be  since  you  annihilate  the  only  proofs  he 
ever  suggested  of  his  innocence  ;  yet  Adrienne  is  so  noble, 
80  good.  We  have  loved  each  other  so  long !  She  would 
like  you,  too — 

Lazare  (  Violenthj)  Xever — never  ! 

Valentine  (Astonished)  Father ! 

Lazare  My  decision  on  this  matter  is  irrevocable ;  do  you 
"lear? — irrevocable ! 

Valentine   Irrevocable  ! 

Lazare  Forget  that  girl,  the  child  of  a  miserable  assassin. 
Forget  her,  I  say.  {Crosses  to  r. 

Valentine  (l.  c  )  But  however  much  an  object  of  horror 
or  reprobation  her  father  may  be  to  others,  surely  you,  at 
all  events,  must  have  some  pity  for  him. 

Lazare  {Nervously)  I  ?     What  do  you  mean  ? 

Valentine  Did  you  not  say  he  succored  you  when  you 
thought  you  were  dying  on  the  battle-field  ? 

Lazare  I  paid  him  for  that.     Did  he  not  say  so  himself  ? 

"^alentine  Well,  that  money,  too,  never  was  found,  for  it 
was  stolen  by  some  miserable  assassin,  who  killed  the  mother 
almost  before  the  very  eyes  of  her  own  child. 

Lazare  {Semi-frantic)  Enough !  enough  !  Stop,  I  tell 
you !     I  bid  you  stop  ! 

Valentine  {Astonished)   Why,  father — 

Lazare  Don't  talk  to  me  about  him  any  more,  nor  about 
that  woman,  nor  her  child.  Do  you  hear,  eh  \  Do  you 
hear  ?     Never !  never  !  ( Crosses  to  l.  h. 

Valentine  (k,  c.)  Calm  yourself,  father.  Of  course  I  will 
obey  you.     But  I  don't  understand — 


52  A    CELEBRATED    CASE. 

Lazare  [Suddenhj  recovering)  You  are  right,  dear.  1 
ought  not  to  let  this  matter  auger  me  so.  But  yesterday 
r/e  were  a  proscribed  family.  To-day,  returning  to  re- 
establish our  claims — I  say  ours,  for  they  are  yours  more 
than  mine — we  need  be  careful.  We  must  think  only  of 
the  name  we  bear  and  th*^  duty  we  owe  it. 

Valentine  You  will  never  need  to  blush  for  me,  sir. 

Lazare  So  be  it.  (^Seeing  Julia  enter :)  Now  complete 
your  toilette,  my  child.  [Suddenly  :)  And  here  [pointing 
to  box)  you  will  find  some  old  family  laces,  some  fine  jewels, 
with  which  your  poor  mother  so  loved  to  deck  herself. 
Take  your  choice,  for  they  are  yours,  darling.  Make  your- 
self i>eautiful.  [Starts  to  exit  c.  l  ,  suddenly  turns,  stops  :) 
Remember  ray  injunction. 

Valentine  [Sadly)  Yes,  father ;  yes. 

[Mtit  Lazare  c.  l. 

Valentine  [Seated  r.  c,  soliloquy :)  It  is  strange  he 
should  not  have  some  pity  for  the  man  who  saved  his  life. 

Julie  Well,  Ma'amselle  ?     Well,  Ma'amselle  ? 

Valentine  [Awakening  from  her  revery)  Oh  !  it's  you, 
Julie. 

Julie  Shall  we  go  on  dressing? 

Valentine  [Bitterly)  Dressing  ?  I  suppose  I  must. 
[Soliloquizing  :)  Why  should  he  fly  into  such  sudden  anger, 
and  seem  so  violently  agitated,  when  I  speak  of  Adrienne, 
her  mother,  and  John  Reuaud  ? 

Julie  [Searching  in  box)  Won't  you  choose  amid  these 
old  Flemish  laces?  Here  is  a  point  d'Alen9oa  would 
become  you  to  perfection. 

Valentine  1  leave  that  to  you.     I'm  no  judge. 

Julie  Will  you  wear  a  bracelet  and  necklace  ? 

Valentine  I  suppose  so. 

Julie  They  are  all  so  beautiful,  T  don't  know  which  to 
choose. 

Valentine  Any  of  them  will  do. 

Julie  [Admirinf/ly]  Here  is  a  necklace  of  pearls,  and 
another  of  amethysts.  And  here  is  one  made  of  emeralds, 
Bapphires,  and  rubies — so  beautiful  ! 

Vfalentine  \_Starting  up  quickly^  AVhat's  that  ? 


A   CELEBRATED   CASE.  63 

Julie  They  are  all  so  lovely. 

Valentine  Did  you  say  a  necklace  of  emeralds,  sapphires, 
and — 

Julie  And  rubies  •  yes,  Ma'amselle 

Valentine  [7V>  herself!^  How  foolish  !  I  suppose  many 
necklaces  are  made  alike. 

Julie  The  clasp  is  remarkably  rich. 
Valentine    A    clasp    of   gold — but — no — no    locket — no 
locket,  eh  ? 

Julie  Oh,  yes !     A  beautiful  locket,  set  with — 
Valentine  \^QuicM}f\  Set  with  three  diamonds. 
Julie  Just  so  !     Ma'amselle  has  ah'cady  seen  it  ? 
Valentine  [Agitated)   Give   it  to   me.     That   is  the  one  I 
want.    [Takes  collar  from  Julie;  then  in  broken  sentences:) 
The  sapphires — the  emeralds — the  rubies — the  locket !    The 
collar   of  which    John    Renaud  spoke  in  every    particular. 
Taken  with  the  other  jewels  by  the  assassin   of  Madeline. 
Then  it  was  he — my  fa —     Oh,  1  must  be  mad  !  what  am  I 
saying?     But  why  did  my  father  tremble  so — seem  so  agi- 
tated— at  the  reference  to  the  assassination  of  Madeline  ? 
Julie  Ah,  here  comes  her  Grace. 

Valentine  The  Duchess — ah,  it  was  she  gave  Madeliue 
the  necklace  of  which  Renaud  spoke.  Through  her  I  will 
know. 

Enter  Duchess,  l.  c. 

Duchess  (  To  Julie)  Leave  us,  Julie. 

[Exit  Julie,  r.  2  e. 

Valentine  [Aside)  'Tis   he  can  fix  my  fate. 

Duchess  Why,  you  are  quite  agitated  !  [Takes  her  hand) 
You  are  all  in  a  tremble  ! 

Valentine  The  various  events  since  yesterday —  I  feel  so 
— I  think  ray  head  is  affected.     Poor  Adrienne  ! 

Duchess  [Thankfully)  'Tis  for  her  you  tremble  ? 

Valentine  Yes — yes. 

Duchess  She  wants  to  go  to  her  father — poor  child  !  Come 
to  her,  Valentine — come. 

Valentine  [Piteously)  My  father  has  forbidden  me.    He 


54  1   CELEBRATED    CASE. 

Will  not,  he  says,  have  his  daughter  hold  any  relations  with 
the  child  of  an  assassin. 

Duchess  Poor  Adrienne  ! 

Valentine  And  there  is  now  no  doubt  of  her  father's 
guilt. 

Duchess  The  declaration  of  your  father  sweeps  away  the 
last  hope  of  his  innocence. 

Valentine  The  story  he  invented  for  his  defence. 

Duches.H   Alas  !  all  a  lie. 

Valentine  The  gold,  the  jewels,  the  papers  confided  to 
him  that  be  was  carrying  to  his  wife. 

Duchess  Lies — lies — all  lies  ! 

Valentine  And  the  neckla:'e  you  gave  Madeline,  the  mis- 
erable man  did  away  witk  to  divert  suspicion — the  collar 
of  topazes  and  sapphires.     I  believe — 

Duchess  No,  it  was  made  of  sapphires,  emeralds,  and 
rubies. 

Valentine  Oh,  yes  !  So  he  told  Adrienne — it  had  a  me. 
dallion. 

Duchess  A  medallion  or  locket,  that  opened  by  pressing 
the  centre  diamond,  of  which  there  were  three.  My 
Christian  name  was  cut  on  it. 

Valentine  Your  name  ? 

Duchess  Yes,  "Marguerite." 

Valentine  (Aside,  despait'infflt/)  Is  this  it  ? — it  burns  my 
very  fingers. 

Duchess  But  what  ails  you?  What  are  you  clutching  so 
nervously  in  your  hand  ? 

Valentine  One  of  the  jewels  they  want  me  to  wear  at  the 
presentation.  I  never  wore  jewels.  (Pointing  to  casket :)  If 
you  would  choose  for  me — 

Duchess  (Astonished  at  Adrien'ne's  manner)  Well,  let 
me  see  the  one  you  have  there. 

Valentine  (Quickly)  No — no!  Not  that — I  don't  like  it 
— I  can't — I  won't  wear  it  ! 

Duchess  Well,  then — (goes  to  box,  h.  n.) — let  us  see  the 
others 

Valentine  (Aside,  moving  away  from  Duchess,  towards 


A    CELEUIlATEl)    CASE.  55 

R.  H.)     The  centre  diamond.     (Presses  071  it  holds  it  by  her 
side  away  from  Duchess,  looks  at  it.)    Ah  !  "  Marguerite"! 

[Staggers. 

Duchess  (Turning  towards  her)  Why,  child  ! — (runs  to 
her) — what  is  the  matter  ? 

Valentine  (Controlling  herself)  Nothing,  Madame, 
nothing.  (Tarns  away  a  little. 

Duchess  But  that  cry? 

Valentine  A  sudden  thought  of  poor  Adrienne.  And  1 
will  have  none  of  those  jewels — I  will  not  go  to  this  presen- 
tation. 

Duchess  But  it  is  a  matter  of  very  great  importance, 
child— both  for  your  fatlier  and  yourself.  After  we  have 
won  your  cause  with  M.  de  Choiseuil,  I  will  obtain  your 
father's  consent  to  your  seeing  Adrienne. 

Valentine  Yes — yes — I  must  see  her.  It  is  not  she  that 
must  be  condemned  to  despair — not  she  !  not  she  ! 

Duchess  I  see  yon  need  quiet.  There—there !  The 
Duke  and  I  will  come  for  you  when  the  time  for  presenta- 
tion arrives.     There — there  !      (Kisses  her  and  exits,  l.  c. 

Valentine  (Solus)  Am  I  in  my  right  mind  ?  On  the  one 
hand  a  man  whom  everything  condemns — even  the  testi- 
mony of  his  own  child  !  On  the  other  (?r///i  bitterness)  a 
man  respected,  honored,  with  a  noble  name,  bearing  in  nisf- 
hand  the  titles,  the  papers  of  his  family,  (laying  her  hand  on 
box  on  table,  jj.  H,,)  and  among  them  this — (holding  tip  neck 
lace) — this  irrefutable  proof  that  he  is  the  mnrderer.  There 
can  be  no  doubt  of  it  this  man  is  the  assassin  ;  and  this  man 
is— my  father  !  (Falls  into  chair,  l.  h. 

Enter  Adrienne,  7?o7e  and  staggering,  r.  d.  2  e. 

Adrienne  I  was  forced  to  come  to  you,  since  you  could  not 
come  to  me. 

Valentine  (Rising,  going  toioards  her  ;  stops  ;  aside,  i..  c.) 
And  my  father  assassinated  her  motlior. 

Adrienne  (r.  c.)  You  see  how  weak  1  am  ;  will  you  not  sup- 
port me  ?     But  perbans  vou  are  right,  the  daughter  of  an 


56  A    CELEBRATED    CASE. 

honorable   gentleman   can    no   longer  be   the  friend  of  the 
daughter  of  a  convict. 

Valentine  Is  that  what  you  believe?  S  ),  if  you  were  in 
ray  place,  and  I  were  the  daughter  of  a  convict — 

Adrlenne  [Going  to  embrace  her)  I  should  love  vou  still. 
(Valentine  shrinks  from  her.)  I  should  say  to  you  that  you 
are  not  responsible  for  another's  crime.  That  human  judg- 
ment often  errs,  and  that  perhaps  your  father  is  innocent , 
for  I  tell  you  that  even  now,  notwithstanding  the  overwhelm- 
ing declaration  of  your  father,  the  Count  de  Mornay,  my 
heart  still  cries  to   me   that  my  father  is  innocent. 

[Crosses  r.  h.,  corner. 

Valentine  {p.)  hxidi  it  tells  you  the  truth !  Your  father 
is  innocent ! 

Adrienne  (  Kushiug  up  to  her)  Heaven  bless  you  for  that ! 

Valentine  {Tearing  aivay  from  her)  Don't  touch  me. 

Adrienne   W  hat,  again  ? 

Valentine  No,  no; 'tis  not  that.  If  your  father  were  here,  I 
should  fall  at  his  feet,  as  I  do  at  yours.  [Kneeling  to  her,  l.  c.) 
I  would  tell  him  his  innocence  would  be  made  to  appear — 
that  he  would  be  restored  to  his  daughter 

Adrienne  His  daughter,  who  convicted  him. 

[Falling  into  chair,  r.  c. 

Valentine  [Rising)  You  were  but  an  infant.  Tell  me,  if 
the  terrible  accusation  brought  against  John  Renaud  twelre 
years  ago  had  been  brought  later — if  in  full  possession  of 
your  reason  you  had  believed  him  guilty — would  you  have 
then  denounced  him  ? 

Adrienne  I  ? 

Valentine  Would  you  have  denounced  him  ? 

Adrienne  Never — never  !  [Rises 

Valentine  Not  if  you  were  satisfied  of  his  guilt? 

Adrienne  The  child  has  no  right  to  kill  the  father.  The 
shame  might  kill  me;  but  denounce  my  father — never! 

Valentine  [  Clasping  her  hands  over  her  brow;  going  up  stagCy 
then  suddenly  turning,  and  coming  down  c.  to  Adrienne)  If 
another  man  had  been  condemned  in  his  place — an  innocent 
man.  and  like  your  father  was  dragging  a  convict's  chain, 


A  celki;ratp:d  case.  6; 

bearing  the  opprobrium  of  the  galleys  for  a  crime  your  own 
father  had  committed — what  would  yon  do  ?    What  ?    What  1 

Adrienne  I  can't  reason  that  way,  I  don't  know ;  I  don't 
know  ^ 

Valentine  [Solemnli/)  Heaven  would  inspire  you — (a^iide  :) 
as  it  will  me. 

Adrienne  But  why  do  you  ask  me  such  questions  ? 

£nter  Lazare,  c,  down  l.  h. 

Lazare  What!  together? 

Vahntine  (Aside)  He  !  [Aloud  .•)  Do  not  be  astonished 
to  tind  Adrienne  with  me.  Her  presence  can  in  no  wise 
taint  the  nobility  (bitterly)  of  our  name. 

Lazare  (  Coldly)  Indeed  ! 

Valentine  She  and  I  are  now  equally  convinced  of  her 
father's  innocence. 

Lazare  {Coldly)  The  time  of  prese  .i.itlon  is  at  hand  I 
came  to  see  if  you  were  ready. 

Adrienne  Forgive  me,  Valentine,  if  I  caused  you  to  dis- 
obey your  father. 

(She  starts  to  go  towai'ds  R.,  turns  and  bows.     Lazare  re- 
mains  impassive. 

Valentine  Father,  Mile.  Renaud  salutes  you. 

(Lazare  sloivly  raises  his  hat,  Valentine  lookiwj  hiiit   in 
the  eyes  ;  Adrienne  stops  at  door. 

Adrienne  (To Valentine)  I  prefer  you  should  remain; 
Julie  will  assist  me.  {Music.     Exit,  r.  2  e. 

Lazare  I  requested  you  to  have  no  intercourse  with  thai 
young  girl. 

Valentine  You  did  not  understand  what  I  said. 

Lazare  Regarding  Renaud's  innocence  ?  Whai  proof  of 
it  has  his  daughter  now  brought  you  ? 

Valentine  She  ?  none. 


68  A    CELEBRATED    CASE. 

Lazare  (^Ironically)  The  renewed  conviction  comes  froin 
Heaven. 

Valentine  (^Firmly)  From  Heaven  ? 

Lazare  A  truce  with  all  this  childishness!  Are  you  ready 
to  attend  the  presentation  ? 

Valentine  I  shall  not  attend  it 

Lazare  What? 

Valentine  No ! 

Lazare  {Sternly)  I  say  yon  shall  go.     I'm  your  father. 

Valentine  Because  of  that  I  humbly  request  of  you  to 
give  up  your  claims  here. 

Lazare  Give  up — ray  claims  ? 

Valentine  And  quit  France  at  once. 

Lazare  Quit  France — surrender  my  claims  to  our  inherit- 
ance?    But  why — why? 

Valentine  Because  none  of  these  things  are  yours. 

Lazare  {In  risiny  anger)  Not  mine  ? 

Valentine  (r.  h.)  None  of  them.  These  jewels — they 
burn  my  eyes.  This  necklace  seemed  to  burn  into  my  very 
bosom     {Holds  it  under  his  eyes)     This  one. 

Lazare  (l.  h.)  Why,  it  is  the  very  necklace  your  mother 
wore  on  our  wedding-day. 

Valentine  Enough,  enough  !  We  must  leave  here,  I  repeat; 
go  far,  far  away  from  France — and  then  clear  the  innocent, 
now  unjustly  suffering. 

Lazare  What,  do  you  mean  to — accuse — to — me — your 
*ather  ? 

Valentine  My  heart  revolts  at  it,  but  my  conscience 
commands  it.     We  must  leave  France. 

Lazare  Never!  {Crosses  to  r.) 

Valen*ine  I  will  follow  you  in  your  exile — be  your  com- 
panion— your  servant,  if  need  be.  When  out  of  personal 
danger,  ^  ou  will  make  known  the  truth  ;  safe  from  the  jus- 
tice of  r<cn,  we  will  together  endeavor  to  woo  the  mercy 
of  Heav'in. 

Lazai'i  You  must  fancy  you  have  some  convincing  proo£ 

^alen  *ine  T  have. 


A    CKT.EBIIATRI)    CASE.  59 

L(i::(ire  Silly  child!  What  is  this  proof?  Let  me  have 
that  pretended  proof. 

Valentine  I  will  not. 

Lazare  I  must  have  it. 

Valentine  To  destroy  it— never  ! 

Lazare  {^Threatening  her)  V\\  make  you — do  you  hear  me  ? 
Give  it  or — 

Valentine  Or  you'll  murder  me,  as  you  did  Madeline.  Do 
it,  for  I  shall  not  obey  you. 

Lazare  [Catching  her  arm)  We'll  see. 

Valentine  [Screams)  Ah  ! 

(Lazare  pnshcs  her  violently  off.     c.  v.  openn.  L'nter  Dvke 
and  Duchess  ;  both  halt  at   door  astonished. 

Duke  We  came  to  announce  to  you  the  arrival  of  the 
Duke  de  Choiseuil. 

Lazare  You  find  me,  sir,  in  a  state  of  extreme  agitation. 
I  do  not  know  if  I  really  can — 

Duchess  [Seeing  Valentine)  Good  Heavens  !  my  child  I 
Valentine  I     What  is  the  matter  ?     Speak — tell  me  \ 

Valentine  [Breathless)  Would  you  have  me  speak?  "Would 
you  have  me  tell  ? 

Duke  Go  on. 

Lazare  Go  on — viy  child — speak  ! 

Valentine  Well,  then — (Lazare  ff inches.)  [Aside:) She  said, 
"I  might  have  died,  but  1  would  not  denounce  my  father." 

D7ike  [Energetically)  Count,  what  ails  your  daughter? 

Lazare  The  excessive  emotions  evoked  by  the  events  of 
the  last  forty- eight  hours  have  resulted  in  an  attack  of  de- 
lirium ;  for  the  last  five  minutes  my  daughter  has  been  mad  1 

[^Quick  curtain, 

Duke.  ) 

Duchess.  V  Mad  I 

Valentine.  [Falling  on  chair.)  ) 

CDRTAIN. 


60  A    CELEBBATJiD    CASE. 


ACT     IV. 

A  salon  in  the  Hotel  d'Aiiheterre.  Doors,  c.  and  r.  3  k. 
Large  ivindow,  l.  3  e.     Fireplace,  n.  2  E. 

At  the  rise  of  the  curtain,  the  "DrciiKSS,  the  Chanoinesse, 
and  O'RotrRKE  are  discovered.  The  Ladies  are  seated,  c, 
while  O'RouEKE  is  looking  out  of  the  door,  R.  3  e.) 

Chan.   Well? 

O^Rourke  She's  a  slaypin'  like  a  woodguest  in  her 
nest  when  her  eggs  are  stolin.  She's  a-talkin'  in  her 
slayp.  She  kayps  on  mutterin',  "  Yis,  yis,  father,  I'm  a 
eomin',  I'm  a  comin'." 

Duchess  She  thinks  of  nothing  but  her  father.  The 
doctor  thought  it  doubtful,  last  night,  that  she  would 
survive  the  crisis. 

Chan.  Why,  Avhen  I  left  here  she  seemed  so  strong 
and  looked  so  beautiful. 

Duchess  (Sighing)  'Tis  since  you  left  us  that  misery 
came,  for  I  have  still  more  to  tell  you. 

Chan.   More  ? 

Duchess  In  despair  at  the  sufferings  of  her  friend, 
from  whose  side  her  father's  inflexible  will  is  determined 
to  keep  her,  Valentine  was,  as  the  Count  de  Mornay 
says,  attacked  with  delirium — madness. 

Chan.  Valentine  mad  !  She,  so  clear  of  mind,  so 
robust  of  reason  !     I  may  say — I — I  {In  reverie. 

O^Rourke  If  I  might  suggest  an  owld  soger's  opinion 
on  the  subject — 

Duchess  Go  on,  O'Rourke. 

CRourke  Well,  your  Grace,  I  think  the  Count  was 
in  a  moighty  hayt  of  a  hurry  to  declare  the  young  lady 
out  of  her  moind. 

Duchess  (Reprovingly)   O'Rourke  ! 

Chan.  Let  him  talk.    Why  do  you  think  so,  O'Rourke  ? 

CRourke  She  was  all  right  enough  a  few  minutes 
afore  she  had  a  confabulayshun  with  himself,  and  if  Miss 
Valentine  is  out  of  her  moind,  it  was  that  confabulay- 


A    CELEIiUATED    CASE.  CI 

shun  did  it.     And  I  shouldn't  wondher  if  it  was  about 
poor  Miss  Aydrian. 

Enter  Duke,  c. 

Chan.  Shrewdly  suspected,  my  man.  There  is  a  very 
strong —     I  will  see  Valentine. 

Duke  {Entering^  c.)  You  will  have  to  be  pretty  quick 
about  it  then,  for  her  father  is  going  to  take  her  away 
to  Versailles,  as  he  has  important  business  there. 

Chan.  The  Count  de  Mornay  must  be  ignorant  of  my 
presence  here.  He  knows  the  years  of  care  and  tender- 
ness I  have  lavished  on  his  daughter,  and  he  cannot  fail 
to  see  me  before  he  goes.  I  may  then  change  his 
resolution. 

Adrienne  (In  room)  Father  !  father  ! 

Duchess  Hush  ! 

CRourke  (Goiny  to  door,  n.  3  E.)  Shure  she's  just 
Vvaykin'  from  a  dhraym. 

(Chanoinesse    and  Duchess    rise    and   step    toward    the 
door,  R.     Adrienne  appears  at  door. 

Adrienne  Oh  !  it  is  you,  Madame  ! 

Chan  Yes,  dear ;  I  beard  you  were  suffering,  (stretches 
.tut  her  arms,)  and  here  I  am. 

Adrienne  You  so  noble,  so  respected,  you  hold  out 
your  arms  to  me  !  You  don't  know,  then,  that  I  am  the 
daughter  of  a — 

Chan  [Interrujiting  her'\  I  know  you  to  be  the  daughter 
whose  heart  and  mind  I  helped  a  good  mother  [pointing  to 
Duchess]  to  form ;  that  alternately  for  ten  years  we  have 
been  your  mother;  that  of  all  my  family  of  fifty,  you  are 
ray  best  beloved. 

l^Opens    her     arms    again.       Adrienne  throws  herself  into 
them.J 

Adrienne  You  are  all  so  good,  so  good — oh,  it  breaks  my 
heart  to  leave  you  ! 

Duchess  But  that  you  shall  never  do. 
Adrienne  And  he?     Must  he  be  left? 


62  A    CELEBRATED    CASE. 

Duke  I  think — I  know  I  can  obtain  bis  pardon  from  tbe 
crown, 

Chan  And  in  some  quiet,  distant  place  be  can  spend  the 
remainder  of  his  days  in  cabii  enjoyment  of — 

Adrienne  This  would  be  mercy  to  tbe  guilty;  but  my 
father  is  not  guilty — my  father  is  innocent. 

Duchess  [Despairhir/Ii/\   Adrienne ! 

Adrienne  And  after  you  had  obtained  this  pardon  be 
would  be  alone  in  tbe  world;  I  should  never  see  him  more — 
as  I  am  unable  now  to  drag  myself  to  his  feet. 

Duke  Nay,  nay,  Adrienne,  yon  are  v.-rong;  you  will  see 
him  soon. 

Adrienne  Soon  to  see  him  ?  Where  ?  When  ?  How 
can  I — 

Duke  You  so  cried  and  called  for  him  during  your  fever 
that  I  resolved  to  send  for  him.  I  sent  the  order  by 
O'Rourke. 

Adrienne  [To  O'Rourke]  Then  you  saw  him — heard  him 
— spoke  to  him  ? 

0''Rourke  The  divil  an  eye  would  tl.ev  let  me  clap  on 
him.  The  surly  kaper  said  he  was  bound  to  obey  his 
Grace's  orders,  but  not  mine,  and  wid  that  the  dirty  spal- 
peen left  me  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  dour. 

Adrienne  [Turns  /oChanoinesse]  If  I  can  only  see  him 
once  more,  talk  to  him  myself — 

Duke  {Aside  /o  O'Rourke).     Go,  and  watch  his  coming. 

0''Rourke    And  delighted  I  am  to  do  that  same. 

[As  he  says  this  O'Rourke  c/oes  up  star/e  and  meets^Kovi^, 
who  is  corning  down  stage. 

Raoul  [Stopping  O'Rourke]   Well,  well  ? 

Qi'Rourke     Ah,  sir,  but  the  poor  child  is  as  wayk  as  ivir. 

(Raoul  comes  down  stage  •  c,  O'Rourke  exits^  c. 

Chan  {Seeing  Raoul)  I  was  astonished  at  not  finding 
pon  here. 

Raoul  Duty  called  me  away.  Now  I  am  free,  and  return 
to  you  and  Adrienne — and  this  time  forever. 

Adrienne  I  understand  vou,  Raoul,  but  cannot  accept  the 


A   CELEBRATKI)   CASE.  tj'.i 

sacrifice.  My  shame  shall  never  stain  your  noble  name — 
blight  your  glorious  future. 

Raoul  Listen,  Adrienne — listen  all,  furl  wish  to  he  beard 
by  all.  Willi  you,  Adrienne,  are  all  my  bopes,  all  my  joy. 
Witbout  you,  fortune,  title,  glory,  have  for  me  no  value. 
You  say  t bat  between  tliese  and  you  tbere  is  an  ol>stacle  the 
world  cannot  overlook.  Be  it  i?o.  1  will  tbus  sweep  awisy 
tbe  ditfieulty.  (7h  Cmanoinesse  :)  Madame,  take  back  the 
fortune  you  gave  me  to  gild  a  noble  name;  and  (/o  Duke) 
you,  your  Grace,  take  the  sword  that  1  cannot  wear  nor 
use  till  the  task  I  have  set  myself  is  accouiplished.  Your 
burden,  Adrienne,  is  too  heavy  for  you  to  bear  alone — 
hereafter  we'll  share  it. 

Adrienne  Raoul ! 

Raoul  You  believe  iu  yonr  father's  innocence.  So  do  I. 
Give  nie  your  hand  ;  bold  up  your  bead  ;  call  back  your 
courage — for  together  we'll  yet  make  that  innocence  mani- 
fest to  the  world. 

Cli'in.    [Proudly  delighted.)   I  loved  bis  father. 

O^Rourhe.  [Much  moved.)  Be  jciber-^,  I  knowed  it !  it's  the 
tbrue  man  what  makes  the  thrue  gintleman. 

Adrienne.  [Raising  herself  uj).)  You  give  me  new  life ; 
but  have  I  the  right  to  accept  such  devotion — has  he  the 
right  to  offer  it  ? 

Chan.  I  do  not  know  whether  he  has  or  not — [Takes  his 
hand) — I  don't  know  whether  he  has  or  not,  but  if  he  had 
acted  otherwise  I  should  have  doubted  his  paternity. 

Raoul.  And  now  ? 

Chan.  Give  me  your  arm  and  escort  me  to  the  Count  de 
Mornay.     It  is  now  my  time  to  act. 

Duke.  The  Count  has  just  gone  out. 

Chan.  So  much  the  better ;  'twill  give  me  time  to  pre- 
pare my  batteries.  Adrienne,  courage  !  and  depend  upon 
me.  [Exits  on  Raoul's  arm  r.  3  e. 

Adrienne.  Courage — couiage  !  Yes,  now  I  will  have 
courage. 

G'RourTce.   [Aside  toDvK^.)  John  is  beyant. 

Duke.  Let  him  come  here.  (O'Rourke  goes  up  stage, 
makes  sign  off  c.)  Adrienne,  you  wished  to  see  your  father. 
(Renaud  appears,  a  Keeper  on  each  side  of  him.)  There  he  is. 


64  A    CELEBRATED    CASE. 

Adrtenne.     {Trembling^    He  !  he ! 

(Duke  makes  a  sign,  the  Keepers  fall  back  ;  Renaud  comes 
forward. 

John.   Adrienne,  my  cLild  !     {^She  jumps  into  his  arms. 

Adrienne.  Father ! 

Duchess.  {In  aside  to  John.)  Take  care.  She  must  not 
be  over-excited. 

John.  Yes,  Ma'am,  yes  !  I'll  comfort  her.  Dou't  cry^ 
Adrienne,  don't  cry !  1  have  forgotten  all  my  past  sutfer- 
ings,  dear,  in  seeing  you  here  so  happy  ;  now  I  know  you 
are  so  well  loved  and  cared  for,  my  mind  is  easy.  Half  the 
load  is  off  my  heart  when  I  know  you  happy. 

Adrienne.  How  can  I  he  happy  when  I  know  myself 
the  cause  of  all  your  suffering  ? 

John.  No,  not  you,  not  you.  [To  Duchess:)  You  will 
not  abandon  her,  Madame,  will  you  ?  I  know  that  when  you 
adopted  her  you  did  not  know  she  was  the  daughter  of  a 
convict. 

Adrienne.  Father! 

John.  [Ewrgtically.)  Yes,  a  convict,  a  convict !  Bat  if 
I  could  lay  my  heart  bare  before  you,  Madame — if  you 
could  see  it,  know  it — you  would  not  blush  to  keep  my  child  ; 
for — in  the  face  of  Heaven  I  say  it — she  is  the  daughter  of 
a  martyr. 

Duchess  Be  you  innocent  or  guilty,  she  will  remain  with 
me — my  daughter. 

Adrienne  No — no  ! 

John  Hush,  darling,  hush  !  1  thank  your  Grace,  and  freely 
give  you  my  child.  But  as  you  say  innocent  or  guilty,  the 
doubt  is  there  to  shadow  her  life.  For  twelve  years  have  1 
wept,  prayed,  despaired ;  and  never,  never  as  now  when  I 
see  her  there  with  this  blight  upon  her — never  as  now  have 
I  felt  my  heart  so  swell  with  the  spirit  of  revolt — never 
have  I  so  felt  the  need  of  crying  out  to  heaven  and  earth  : 
I  am  not  an  assassin — I  am  innocent ! 

Duke  (Beprovingly)  John  Renaud  ! 

John  'Twas  you  condemned  me,  yet  you  knew  I  was  an 
honest  man,  a  good  soldier — you  knew  my  wife  was  a  true, 
chaste,  honest  woman — 


A    CELEBRATED    CASE.  66 

Duke  Yes.     But  the  testimony  of  your  child  ? 
John  ( To  Adrienne)  You  see — you  see  I  was  brave  and  loyal, 
your  mother  chaste   and    virtuous,  and  there  binding  us  to- 
oether  were  you,  an  angel  fresh  from  heaven.     Now  why — 
why  should  1  kill  your  mother?     Is  it  likely — 

Adrienne  Why,  father,  I  never  doubted  your  innocence. 
My  heart  declared  it  the  day  you  stated  it. 

Dvke  John,  listen  to  me  a  moment.  It  was  not  merely 
to  see  your  daughter  pleased  I  sent  for  you.  I  also  wanted 
to  ask  you  a  very  serious  question. 

John  What  question,  Col — General  ? 

Duke  During  your  trial,  you  kept  repeating  that  if  a  cer- 
tain man  had  not  been  killed  he  could  have  made  your  in- 
nocence apparent. 

Duke  {Looking  John  in  the  face)  What  would  you  now  say, 
if  I  told  you  that  the  Count  de  Momay  is  still  alive? 

John  [Beside  himself]  lie  is  alive — alive  !  [Stops.]  You 
are  not  saying  this  merely  to  try  me  ?     He  is  alive  ? 

Duchess  We  all  know  and  have  seen  him  here. 

John  [Wild  with  jot/]  Here- -here  !  He  is  here!  [Cover- 
ing  Adrienne  with  kisses]  We're   saved  I    saved  !   saved  I 

0''Rourke  [To  Duke]  D'ye  hear  that,  your  Grace  ?  la 
that  the  cry  of  a  guilty  man  ? 

Duke  Request  the  Count  de  Mornay  to  please  step  here. 

0''Rourke  There's  no  nayd  of  me  goin',  for  I  saw  the  car- 
riage return,  and  "ere  he  comes  himself  to  bid  you  farewell. 

Adrienne  [Aside]  Alas,  my  poor  father  ! 

John  Oh,  why  was  I  not  told  before  of  this  happiness  ! 

Duke  Wait ;  you  shall  see  and   hear.    Stand  aside  awhile. 

John  But,  your  Grace — 

Duke  Wait  a  little — wait  there. 

[Pointing  to  ivindow,  L.  3  E. 

O^Rourke  [Announcing]  The  Count  de  Moniay. 

Lazare  [Coming  forward]  I  did  not  wish  to  leave  your 
Grace  without  expressing  my  thanks  for  the  tenderness  lav- 
ished on  my  daughter,  and  the  hospitality  extended  to  us 
both, 

Duke  Before  you  leave  us,  Count,  I  would  like  to  summon 
before  you  a  man — a  very  miserable  man — of  whom  you 
have  already  heard  here. 


66  A   CELEBRATED   CASE. 

Lazarc  What  for? 

D^^ke  John  Renand  !  [Lazare  taken  aback,  starts. 

0^ Rourke  [^Watchlnc/  him\  Begorra,  he  shivered  like  a 
lamper-ayl  from  head  to  tail  ! 

Lazare  \^Cool  as  a  cucumber^  John  Renaud —  Ah,  I  see 
— I  recollect  the  i.anie — and  that  dress  tells  the  story. 
This  is  the  soldier  condemned  for  murder. 

Johji  Unjustly  condemned,  Count ;  and  one  word  from 
your  mouth  will  prove  that  and  restore  me  to  life,  to  liberty 
and  honor. 

Lazare  \^Coldly,  haughtily]  A  word  from  me?  How, 
pray  ? 

John  By  recalling  the  past  and  stating  it  truly. 

Lazare  What  past?  Oh,  I  see!  that  adventure  of 
which  Mile.  Adrienne — 

Adrienne  His  daughter,  sir. 

Lazare  [^Boivinfj  a  little] — His  daughter  spoke. 

John  The  adventure  of  two  men  the  night  before  Fon- 
tenoy — one  was  wounded;  the  other,  a  soldier,  came  to  his  re- 
lief, and  received  a  trust.  The  soldier  was  myself,  the  wound- 
ed man  was — [looks,hesitates/  Lazare  neverjiinches  an  instant] 
— the  wounded  man  was — his  face  was  covered  with  blood, 
the  darkness  was  gathering;  I  should  not  be  able  to  recog- 
nize him,  but  he  was  the  Count  de  Mornay. 

Lazare  [Coldly]!  Am  the  Count  de  Mornay.  What  you 
have  stated  thus  far  is  perfectly  true. 

John[  With  joy]  Do  you  hear — eh?  Do  you  hear?  Well, 
you  confided  to  me  your  jewels,  your  papers,  your — 

Lazare  Better  stop  there,  my  man. 

John  How  ? 

Lazare  You  are  now  about  to  commence  the  story  of  that 
poor  murdered  woman — 

John  Yes — of  my  wife. 

Lazare  1  know  that  my  name  was  called  up  by  the  defence. 

John  By  me,  Count,  by  me,  whom  the  disappearance  of 
your  jewels,  gold,  and  papers  would  have — 

Lazare  [Withe7nphusis]  My  jewels,  my  papers,  never  did 
disappear — they  are  even  now  here  in  my  possession 

John  [Overivhelmed]  Here,  in  your  hands? 

Lazare  Certainly,  all  of  them — all. 


A    ?.'ELEBRATED    CASE?:  67 

John  [^Breathhsfi]  Then  tlie  man  who  stole  them  restored 
tliera  to  your  family. 

Loznre  Never. 

John  [  With  conviction]  Then  he  restored  them  to  you. 

Lazare  [Violently^^  No,  I  tell  you,  never. 

John  [Energetically]  Then  I  tell  you  that  if  you  have  them, 
and  no  one  ever  restored  them  to  yon,  you — [rising  higher 
and  higher] — you  tore  them  from  the  hands  of  my  dying 
wife ! 

Jjazare  How,  wretch  ? 

Duke  John,  be  still  ! 

John  How  can  I  be  still  ?  Can  you  not  understand — do 
you  not  see — that  there,  right  before  me,  stands  the  man  that 
murdered  ray  wife — my  Madeline.  He  who  is  killing  ray 
child  here — he  who  for  twelve  years  has  intiicted  on  me  the 
tortures  of  the  damned  !  How  can  I  be  still  ?  Look,  look  ! 
this  shameful  uniform,  'tis  he  should  wear  it ;  this  chain, 
'tis  he  should  drag  it !  I  know — I  know  he's  put  me  out  of 
the  pale  of  the  law.  But  if  I  can't  have  law  let  me  have 
justice  ;  if  not  justice,  then  let  me  have  revenge  ! 

(Duke  and  Rourke  hold  John  back. 

Adrienne  Father ! 

Diike  What  clue — what  proof  can  he  offer? 

Enter  Valentine,  Chanoinesse  and  Raoul. 

Adrienne  I  see — T  see  'tis  all  over  ! 

Valentine  Not  yet. 

Loznre  [Angrily  to  Valentine.)  What  do-you  want  ?  what 
brings  you  here? 

Valentine  I  come  to  ask  you  to  quit  France,  as  T  asked 
you  before. 

Lazare  Silence  !  I  forbid  you  to  speak.  I  command  you 
to  follow  me — on  the  instant ! 

{Goes  to  seize  her  hy  the  wrist.     Chanoinesse  steps  in  between 

them. 

Chan  ( With  quiet  dignity^  By  what  right  do  you  com* 
mand  this  child  ?  and  by  what  right  do  you,  in  my  pres- 
ence, dare  to  speak  to  her  in  such  a  tone  ? 

Lazare  I  am  her  father,  the  Count  de  Moriiay. 

Chan  The  Count  de  Mornay  !  Look  me  in  the  face.  Do 
you  know  me — did  you  ever  meet  me  before  ? 


68  A    CBLEBRATED    CASE. 

Lazare  Never,  that  I  can  remember. 

Chan  (^Ironically)  Do  you  remember  to  what  college  the 
girlhood  of  your  child  was  confided  ? 

Lazare  The  College  of  Ilyeres,  certainly — 

Chan  She  was  sent  there  by  you  ? 

Lazare  The  day  I  left  France. 

Wian  And  the  man  wlio  delivered  her  to  the  directress 
was — a  servant  ? 

Lazare  A  devoted  servant  of  the  familj\ 

Chan  Can  you  repeat  what  that  man  said  when  he  sep- 
arated from  your  daughter. 

Lazare     [Insolently.)     Pshaw !     How  should  I  ? 

Chan  [Quietly.)  I  can.  "It  is  perhaps  for  ever,"  he  said, 
"  that  I  am  forced  to  leave  you,  poor  child,  and  with  you  re- 
mains half  of  my  life — half  of  my  heart."  His  eyes  over- 
flowed with  tears.  The  directress,  astonished  at  his  emotion, 
was  about  to  speak,  when  he  said  to  her :  "  I  can  trust  you, 
lady.  I  am  the  Count  de  Mornay — a  proscribed,  flying  man 
— into  your  hands  I  confide  my  daughter  ;  and  Heaven  deal 
with  you  as  you  deal  with  my  child." 

All  His  child  ? 

Chan.  Yes,  it  was  I  who  received  Valentine  de  Mornay 
from  the  hands  of  her  real  father. 

Lazare  [Frightened)   You  ? 

Chan.  And  I  tell  you  you  are  an  impostor,  sir,  and  have 
stated  what  is  false. 

John  [Quickly)   Ah,  at  last. 

Lazare  [Menacingly)  Madame 
Chan.   [Quietly)  You   have    just  stated   what  I  know  to 
be  false — you  are  not  her  father. 

John  ( With  force)  And  I  tell  you  you  are  not  the  Count 
dc  jMornay. 

CRourke  Cornered  I  Til  be  ready  for  him  on  the  shpring. 

[Exit    O'ROURKE  V.  D. 

Lazare  But  I  hold  in  my  hands  all  the  possible  attesta- 
tions of  my  identity.  Who  can  furnish  proof  to  the  con- 
trary ? 

Valentine  You  can.     You  brought  the  proof  with  you. 

John  What? 

La^ar«  I? 


A   CELEBRATED    CASE.  69 

Valentine  {Producing  necklace)  You  brought  the  proof 
here — this  necklace,  which  you  stole  from  the  bleeding 
corpse  of  Madeline, 

John  {^Lookiny  at  necklace)  I  know  it !  I  know  it !  (Hands 
it  to  Duchess.)     See,  see,  Madame  ! 

John  Look,  your  Grace,  in  the  medallion — your  name  ! 

Duchesa  True. 

John  And  fee,  Duke,  here  the  arms  of  the  house  d'Aube 
terre.  [He-enter  O'Roukke,  c.  d. 

Duke  It  is  true, 

John  As  true  as  that  there  stands  the  assassin  of  Made- 
line. 

Duke  Raoul,  arrest  that  man  ! 
Lazare  (Aside)   I'm  lost !    There  is  nothing  left  for  me  but 
a  dash. 

(Hushes  up  to  c.  D.,  dashes  them  open,  and  finds  a  file  of 

Soldiers  across  door. 

G^Rourke  Yes,  my  lord  Count,  your  escort  is  ready. 

Duke  (To  John)  John  Renaud,  I  beg  your  hand  in 
token  of  forgiveness  for  our  general  error. 

John  Ah,  General,  I  have  now  the  right  to  embrace 
my  daughter,  and  the  sufferings  of  ihe  past  are  forgot- 
ten ! 

CURTAIN. 


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